LORTA, MID RIM
Dash had given himself precious little time to think since Tython, on purpose. He knew himself by now, knew he could stoke himself to feel one thing and yet given time come around to think different. But there was no time for indecision. Many people had told him over the years that he could do the extraordinary. He now believed it himself.
Dash straightened his armor as the boarding ramp began to lower, knowing every part of his image was vital today. The Lortans were a violent and martial people. They respected strength and power, both of which he intended to show them if it came to it. The time for modesty had passed. The Jedi, and the many of thousands of worlds they tacitly represented, were at a crossroads. Either Dash and his brothers and sisters destroyed their enemies, or everything they cared about would be destroyed instead.
The Rhinnalian stood atop the ramp, centering himself for a moment to the sound of dying engines. Reaching into the Force, he visualised the kind of armor the Lortans would respect, channeling his natural talent to fashion what was called for. Ice and frost crept into being across his frame, crystallising into gauntlets, pauldrons and an impressive armored bodice that would leave the natives in no doubt.
Dash strode down the ramp, employing every ounce of theatrical skill to enhance his arrival. He waited until he was in full view of the Lortan General to fashion a crystalline ice spear from the air, planting it on the hard ground like a rod of state.
"General Kallis" he nodded, showing no sign he was intimidated by the huge muscular Lortan. "I and my fellow Jedi come to extend you an opportunity. May we speak?".
@Scoobert