Zorya stood unflinching, her dark eyes absorbing the grim tableau before her. The roiling discord painted an almost corporeal fresco on her senses. Her nostrils filled with the pungent odor of sweat, oil, and raw fear, an intoxicating blend that made her pulse quicken. The cool surface of the hangar floor beneath her boots thrummed with an underlying vibration, a reminder of the conflict brewing just outside the deceptive tranquility of their impromptu assembly.
Her gaze, alight with an unholy fire, fell upon Vako. His demeanor betrayed an undercurrent of shrewd caution that was a mark of survival in the lawless expanse they inhabited. She admired it, not for its virtue, but for the promise of a worthy adversary it carried. The Sith knew that such games of power and deceit often drew out the best in people, igniting the raw, primal spirit within.
O'bog, his petite form animated with an infectious energy, fluttered in the stifling air, his glassy eyes darting between the Mandalorian woman and the Toydarian. "Ye heard 'im, lasses," he croaked, his tiny fists clenched in a facsimile of earnest determination. "We got ourselves a right royal shambles to set right. No tellin' what those bloody ne'er-do-wells are up to!"
The Ximpi's strident declaration echoed through the cavernous hangar, followed by a silence so profound it seemed to swallow the noise of the outer battle. A faint smirk curled on the edges of Zorya's lips. Her arm lifted in a commanding sweep, the motion as fluid as the undulating shadows cast by the flickering overhead lights.
"First, we got to handle those food-grabbin' Harkors, right?" O'bog squawked, his chubby finger pointing towards the direction Vako had indicated. "Then, we clean out those loot-hoggin' bilge rats. Lastly, we got to ensure no barge-sized escape pod makes it outta here with our rightful plunder."
His unblinking gaze returned to Vako, a wry grin stretching across his face. "How's that for a plan, mate? Hope ye got your runnin' boots on."
Meanwhile, Zorya took a step forward, her eyes gleaming with a silent promise of unyielding determination. Her senses were filled with the palpable anticipation of the battle to come.
@KaraLi @Morse
Her gaze, alight with an unholy fire, fell upon Vako. His demeanor betrayed an undercurrent of shrewd caution that was a mark of survival in the lawless expanse they inhabited. She admired it, not for its virtue, but for the promise of a worthy adversary it carried. The Sith knew that such games of power and deceit often drew out the best in people, igniting the raw, primal spirit within.
O'bog, his petite form animated with an infectious energy, fluttered in the stifling air, his glassy eyes darting between the Mandalorian woman and the Toydarian. "Ye heard 'im, lasses," he croaked, his tiny fists clenched in a facsimile of earnest determination. "We got ourselves a right royal shambles to set right. No tellin' what those bloody ne'er-do-wells are up to!"
The Ximpi's strident declaration echoed through the cavernous hangar, followed by a silence so profound it seemed to swallow the noise of the outer battle. A faint smirk curled on the edges of Zorya's lips. Her arm lifted in a commanding sweep, the motion as fluid as the undulating shadows cast by the flickering overhead lights.
"First, we got to handle those food-grabbin' Harkors, right?" O'bog squawked, his chubby finger pointing towards the direction Vako had indicated. "Then, we clean out those loot-hoggin' bilge rats. Lastly, we got to ensure no barge-sized escape pod makes it outta here with our rightful plunder."
His unblinking gaze returned to Vako, a wry grin stretching across his face. "How's that for a plan, mate? Hope ye got your runnin' boots on."
Meanwhile, Zorya took a step forward, her eyes gleaming with a silent promise of unyielding determination. Her senses were filled with the palpable anticipation of the battle to come.
@KaraLi @Morse