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- Jul 25, 2010
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He didn’t know where he was. Some industrial plant? A planet? A ship? He supposed it didn’t matter. The room was lit well enough, lighting provided by fluorescent bulbs fixed vertically into the walls and emitting a pale yellow light. They were cylindrical in shape, measuring four feet in length and running from floor to ceiling. In all, there were nine hundred and sixty bulbs that Regin had counted. He could count, and he had the time. A bulb was placed every ten feet around the base of the room’s circumference, leading upward in columns of six up toward the ceiling. No matter the quantity, each bulb was neither too dim nor too bright to result in either when combined.
The room itself was circular in shape with a diameter of fifty feet. Its walls were barren save the lights spread around, though they were metal in form, straight and smooth, much like the ceiling and the floor that Regin stood upon, there in the center of the room. Though, whether he had walked there or had been teleported there was beyond his current comprehension. There were no doors in the room, and no other living soul beyond himself, but he knew things could change. They already had.
The interior was at a comfortable room temperature (at least for the average human), anywhere between 20 °C and 25 °C, with breathing air aplenty, likely from vents nearer the ceiling. Regin stood attired in his black robes, inner and outer, hood up. He sported black leather boots and gloves, his hands bare of object and arms at his sides, but his lightsaber hilts were clipped at his belt on either side of his waist. Once ignited, he was sure their vibrant humming would be the only noise to break the silence apart from his breathing. He didn’t know where he was or how he got there, but he had a feeling he would soon be putting his weapons to use. The setting simply called for it, and he was ready for it.
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