Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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We Need Armor

SAVAREEN SECTOR, APATROS SYSTEM
OUTER RIM OREWORKS MINES, APATROS

Ever since joining the growing congregation of worlds known as the Confederacy of Independent Systems, the desolate world Apatros had seen an increase in traffic. This was a quite noticeable leap in the total number of vessels which graced the world with their presence; hailing from a variety of planets within Confederate space. However, despite the fact that business was going quite well, the appearance of The Hammer was not something to be expected in the slightest! As the Frigate surged forth from the depths of Hyperspace and began hailing the ground personnel who staffed the mining corporation's facilities, there was a multitude of surprise that could he heard in the voices of those who responded on the holo-calls.

The Grand Marshal of the Confederacy had arrived, and was in need of services that only they could provide.

The events which had transpired during the assisting of Utapau had left the clone nearly dead, and had resulted in the utter decimation of his trademark armor. Being the standard armor issued to members of the Jedi Order, the Gungir-series had done an exceptional job of protecting the Grand Marshal over the course of various combat operations...however, even the lightsaber-resistant, durable protection that had characterized the clone since then...paled in comparison to a point-blank blast from an anti-aircraft walker. While, at present, Genesis Rostu had elected to wear a suit of MX-00 Templar Armor as a replacement, but he required something much more suitable. After all, the armor had simply been adjusted to accommodate his size and unique armaments...but the Vong-shaped warrior needed something particular to suit him.

And he was not the only one, for there was a gargantuan Templar who required similar assistance. So, in a benevolent gesture, the clone ventured out to Apatros, intent on purchasing the Cortosis required to create a new suit of armor for himself, the aforementioned Phlok, plating for his High Marshal's body, and a new suit of armor for a new member of the Templar Order who had tagged along. It did not take long for the vessel to gain clearance to land, and soon it touched down on the desolate surface of the planet; only a stone's throw away from the main landing pad. The ramp was extended from the hanger bay, and the Grand Marshal made his way down.

"Alright, everyone out. Let's get this shopping down."

As the words escaped his lips, the amphistaff which was coiled around his forearm reared its head and gave a hiss, as if agreeing.
 
The Admiralty
Codex Judge
Michael stood side by side with the Grand Marshal of the Confederacy and could not help to be a bit conflicted. He knew for sure that he made the right choice, when he decided to leave the Republic and its political squabbles. But even now he was not able to shake the feeling that he could have done more, more to influence the Order and the Republic as a whole into a better direction. Instead after the disastrous duel against Master Syn, which left him half-dead in a hospital and the terrorist attack by two renegade Sith Masters in the Senate building he left Republic Space and ventured to the outside world. It had been an interesting experience for him, he had met a lot of different people, he had helped the needy and discovered a lot about himself. In the end he felt more a Jedi outside of the Jedi Order, than he had ever felt when he was still considered one of them.

It was this feeling that put his mind at rest, for his father had always told him that the most important thing a man could do, was helping people in need; wherever you go. You did not need a fancy name nor rank to be able to do that. And in the end the old man had been right all along.

Then Michael followed the Grand Marshal down the ramp, to find himself some good armor for all the coming battles that would sure come.

@[member="Genesis Rostu"]
 

Other Space Kaiden

Better than other-other space Kaiden
The Confederacy was the only passion Nocturno had to pursue anymore and it was seeming to pay off. Grand Marshal Rosu had agreed to allow Nocturno to gather the resources required to create himself a brand new set of armor platting for his outershell, one made of Cortosis. To anyone else the addition of Cortosis was merely for defense, but for Nocturno the procedure was an opportunity to fix his body. The organic tissue within his metal form was highly sensitive, the slightest touch could send him into a flurry of pain. This would not be to troubling on an everyday basis if the Kaminoan who put him together would have had any expertise in mechanics whatsoever, but you win some and lose some. At least now, with the CIS's credits, Nocturno could have the off-center and malfunctioning mechanics fixed or replaced so that he was not in pain nearly as much. The Cortosis could also be fitted with some shock-absorbers so that more kinetic energy was deflected away from his sensitive tissue.

"This should be interesting" Nocturno commented in his icy voice, his metalic boots clanking down the ramp

@[member="Michael Sardun"]

@[member="Genesis Rostu"]
 

Urmax Pholoka

Guest
U
The concept of cortosis weave in his clothing was something far beyond what a normal Phlog would encounter on their day to day life. And for Urmax, it was more of the same. The kindness of the Confederacy was not blatant, and the Templars could show fairness and honor when they needed to, and this was much of the same. As he sat in the hangar, too large to fit in the corridors, he noticed Genesis, Sardun and Nocturno approaching. Moving to his knees, he smiled shyly and nodded to them.

"So we are off, then?"

@[member="Nocturno "]@[member="Michael Sardun"] @[member="Genesis Rostu"]
 
Flanked by the silent Jedi and the metallic High Marshal, the clone came to a brief halt within the heart of the hanger bay. At first, a small chuckle escaped his lips; for he found the cyborg's thoughts slightly humorous. Sure, the prospect of new armor for the lot of them was indeed interesting...but the prospect of meeting with a dust-ridden businessman in order to purchase the vital metal was not exactly the definition of interesting. Nonetheless, Genesis did not voice his opinion on this particular matter and instead turned his attention to the gargantuan Templar, named Urmax. For one so large, his expression was...almost shy.

"That's correct Urmax, we're on our way out. Mind your head." he said, nodding to those by his side before leading the way out of the hanger and down the ramp. They were immediately greeted by a cadre of hooded and cloaked individuals: miners who were dressed as thus for meager protection against the elements. The foremost of them was the Foreman, who took off his hat and rendered a polite bow to the Grand Marshal and his company.

"Greetings honored Grand Marshal, and welcome to our humble Mine. What brings the leader of our Confederacy to Apatros?" he began, flashing a toothless smile as he rose to his full height.

"We're in need of Cortosis good sir. My armor was badly damaged as of late and I'm in need of a suitable replacement. The High Marshal requires updated plating, Urmax requires suitable protection for one of his stature, and our Jedi friend here also needs dependable armor for the coming battles. As such, we'll be needing some of your refined Cortosis; money is no object."

Money was the language the Foreman spoke, so with a wider grin, he motioned at the four of them. "Well come on inside the office! I'd be a shameful host to keep you all out here. Come, come!" he said, motioning for them to follow after him to a small "portable" office. It was, obviously, too small for Urmax to enter, but he could easily squat outside the door and peer inside to keep an eye on the conversation. At the behest of the host, Genesis followed after the man and entered the office, then seated himself at one of the chairs provided.

"Now then, gentlemen," said the Foreman, "might I get some of the specifics for your armor? This way, I'll be able to discern the grade of Cortosis you'll need."

@[member="Michael Sardun"], @Nocturno, @[member="Urmax Pholoka"].
 
The Admiralty
Codex Judge
Michael followed the Grand Marshal inside the building and sat down next to him. The question posed certain difficulties, he was not at all that familiar with the specifics the armor would need to be suitable for his needs. For one it would need to be durable against lightsaber attacks and the occasional blaster fires. Besides that, Michael needed armor that would not slow him down and allow him extended maneuverability.

With a lot of difficulty he was able to express his needs to the foreman who at last seemed to understand what exactly he was gunning for. Satisfied with his explanation Michael returned to his characteristic and comfortable silence.

@[member="Nocturno "]@[member="Genesis Rostu"] @[member="Urmax Pholoka"]
 

Other Space Kaiden

Better than other-other space Kaiden
Nocturno sighed, his photoreceptors scanning the small office in which they would be conducting their business. In all honesty, this thing looked like it belonged in a shanty town rather than traveling the galaxy with the intent to do business inside it. With a slight hesitation, Nocturno walked into the office and stood behind the Grand Marshal with his metallic arms crossed stubbornly across his chest. Something told Nocturno that this man would sooner steal every credit you had before he gave you a fair deal, but then again Nocturno was not use to dealing with merchants in any form. As the Merchant requested specifications, Nocturno reached for a datapad he had been keeping in a hardcase upon his leg. With little more than a few robotic grunts, the High Marshal tapped through menu after menu until he had collected all the required information and handed the pad to the merchant.

"These are the specifications I require. They must be met exactly as they appear, my body is highly sensitive and a single misplaced plate or gear could mean devastating results."
 

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