Aeda Shaytari
We all wear masks....
[member="Moira Skaldi"]
The inner sanctum felt…wrong. The Force, to the Sith at least, felt distorted, twisted.
As the door snapped shut behind them she readied her weapons, but no onslaught came. Rather, there was gloom, interspersed with slightly glowing crystals and some odd clicking sounds.
Sith and HRD moved through the large space until suddenly a shape appeared before them, a spindly protocol droid, lacking casing and with a glowing crystal visible in its head.
“Good day, Mistresses. May I help you?” it asked somewhat feebly.
“Where is your leader? Take us to them!” Raya commanded.
The droid twitched a little bit. “I’m sorry, Mistresses, I don’t know what…”
The Sith’s lightsabre extended and glowed an inch away from the droid’s eyes. “Please…” she insisted.
“It’s alright, Artus, you may go. Come, my Sith and mechanical friend,” came a high pitched, mechanical voice from the far side.
Rather than a hulking battlesuit or war machine there stood a polished white droid behind a workbench, tools and crystals scattered over the place. A smell of decay carried to them, along with the mechanical smells of oil and metal. It seemed like they’d get answers at last.
The inner sanctum felt…wrong. The Force, to the Sith at least, felt distorted, twisted.
As the door snapped shut behind them she readied her weapons, but no onslaught came. Rather, there was gloom, interspersed with slightly glowing crystals and some odd clicking sounds.
Sith and HRD moved through the large space until suddenly a shape appeared before them, a spindly protocol droid, lacking casing and with a glowing crystal visible in its head.
“Good day, Mistresses. May I help you?” it asked somewhat feebly.
“Where is your leader? Take us to them!” Raya commanded.
The droid twitched a little bit. “I’m sorry, Mistresses, I don’t know what…”
The Sith’s lightsabre extended and glowed an inch away from the droid’s eyes. “Please…” she insisted.
“It’s alright, Artus, you may go. Come, my Sith and mechanical friend,” came a high pitched, mechanical voice from the far side.
Rather than a hulking battlesuit or war machine there stood a polished white droid behind a workbench, tools and crystals scattered over the place. A smell of decay carried to them, along with the mechanical smells of oil and metal. It seemed like they’d get answers at last.