- Joined
- Jul 16, 2011
- Messages
- 662
- Reaction score
- 0
Mordred sat silently on a small bunker of the shuttle. Skimming over the small datapad in his hands once more. It had been a pleasant trip, although it had its frustrations such as how long it took him to figure out how to turn on the Chiss datapad. It had taken him a long time to figure out how to turn on basic Empire technology.. and the Chiss were not quite the same.
It had taken, to his embarrassment, hours of tampering which included hitting it and smashing it against the bunk. Asking for aid had never crossed his mind as how could he do such a thing? The only others on board was the pilot, whose strange abilities still baffled him. How can a man fly such strange machines? A Chiss soldier and a stormtrooper also occupied the shuttle, but he had not yet spoke to them.. and if he did, he did not bother to remember. It was a strange bunch that had been gathered for this mission, and as the Sith, he had to ensure he was of a higher quality.
The mission was filled with subjects that baffled him. Small little insects called Droch which until recently he had no idea existed, but thankful the Chiss had foresaw such things and gave very detailed information on the.. plague. The Moon was filled with toxic gas, so sealed suits would be required.. at least until the reached the ship and then they could discover if it was clean of the toxic fumes or not.
For the thousandth time, he wondered why he was here. On this ship, on this mission, in the empire. It all.. made little sense to him anymore. First it was a desire for vengeance.. but now his purpose was gone. He did not desire power for powers sake as many of his fellow sith did. He needed something. Something to live for, something to obey, something to be his purpose. Not an Ideal, not a figurehead.. something real.
His thoughts were interrupted by the voice that came over the com system, announcing they were entering the Atmosphere and should prepare for drop... Which meant Mordred would have to wear those stuffy suits. Luckily he had spent a few hours trying on the suit.. pushing buttons.. touching wires.. and other experimentation that would seem odd to many, but it was the only way he knew how to figure out the blasted suits. Oh, how he hated Technology.
Grunting Mordred brushed back his long brown hair as he gently placed the mask back on his face. He felt... insecure without it on, and so tended to keep it on at almost all times unless alone. Perhaps it was merely a wall to keep out the thoughts and hide the feelings of loss that had taken hold in the deep reaches of his soul.
It was not a large shuttle, so it did not take him long to reach his destination. The sound of his boots clanking on the metal and the soft sounds of his cape swishing behind him offering a pleasant distraction that made the journey even shorter to him. Gently he tapped the panel on the wall, Another thing that baffled him. How did they do that? The mysteries of the force were easy to understand.. The strange mysterious technology was something that was impossible to grasp.
The door opened to reveal the small loading bay room that would lead to the off ramp. Many lockers surrounded the bland gray room. It was dull.. but he supposed practicality meant more then artistic touch. Even if he did not understand most of what made up the practicality.
Opening a random locker, he found the strange stuffy suits. Of course the others may have armor that protected them without the need for the environmental suit, but he was not one of them. His 'armor' was really just clothe. He was not one of the Sith who wore metal armor because they were impotent and compensating for their weakness.
Slowly, he strapped on the armor as he awaited the others.. whoever they were.
It had taken, to his embarrassment, hours of tampering which included hitting it and smashing it against the bunk. Asking for aid had never crossed his mind as how could he do such a thing? The only others on board was the pilot, whose strange abilities still baffled him. How can a man fly such strange machines? A Chiss soldier and a stormtrooper also occupied the shuttle, but he had not yet spoke to them.. and if he did, he did not bother to remember. It was a strange bunch that had been gathered for this mission, and as the Sith, he had to ensure he was of a higher quality.
The mission was filled with subjects that baffled him. Small little insects called Droch which until recently he had no idea existed, but thankful the Chiss had foresaw such things and gave very detailed information on the.. plague. The Moon was filled with toxic gas, so sealed suits would be required.. at least until the reached the ship and then they could discover if it was clean of the toxic fumes or not.
For the thousandth time, he wondered why he was here. On this ship, on this mission, in the empire. It all.. made little sense to him anymore. First it was a desire for vengeance.. but now his purpose was gone. He did not desire power for powers sake as many of his fellow sith did. He needed something. Something to live for, something to obey, something to be his purpose. Not an Ideal, not a figurehead.. something real.
His thoughts were interrupted by the voice that came over the com system, announcing they were entering the Atmosphere and should prepare for drop... Which meant Mordred would have to wear those stuffy suits. Luckily he had spent a few hours trying on the suit.. pushing buttons.. touching wires.. and other experimentation that would seem odd to many, but it was the only way he knew how to figure out the blasted suits. Oh, how he hated Technology.
Grunting Mordred brushed back his long brown hair as he gently placed the mask back on his face. He felt... insecure without it on, and so tended to keep it on at almost all times unless alone. Perhaps it was merely a wall to keep out the thoughts and hide the feelings of loss that had taken hold in the deep reaches of his soul.
It was not a large shuttle, so it did not take him long to reach his destination. The sound of his boots clanking on the metal and the soft sounds of his cape swishing behind him offering a pleasant distraction that made the journey even shorter to him. Gently he tapped the panel on the wall, Another thing that baffled him. How did they do that? The mysteries of the force were easy to understand.. The strange mysterious technology was something that was impossible to grasp.
The door opened to reveal the small loading bay room that would lead to the off ramp. Many lockers surrounded the bland gray room. It was dull.. but he supposed practicality meant more then artistic touch. Even if he did not understand most of what made up the practicality.
Opening a random locker, he found the strange stuffy suits. Of course the others may have armor that protected them without the need for the environmental suit, but he was not one of them. His 'armor' was really just clothe. He was not one of the Sith who wore metal armor because they were impotent and compensating for their weakness.
Slowly, he strapped on the armor as he awaited the others.. whoever they were.
Last edited by a moderator: