Hawkins Grime
Dec 11th, 2006, 01:26:42 AM
(This thread is set in an undetermined time as of right now)
They hadn't been rude about it, nor polite. Seeming to appear out of thin air as they turned off their personal cloaking fields as he had stepped out into the Wilds of Onderon. They had been waiting, not necessarily for him, but waiting nonetheless.
Obviously De'Ville had given them enough to recognize Grime on sight and figure more or less what he would be going into the Wilds for as they had a speeder with one extra seat just warming its engine up as he continued to approach the group. One of the Mandalorian's rose its fist and spoke, the strong voice coming through the helmet's speaker fine.
"Su cuy'gar."
Grime stopped and looked to the Mandalorian, frustration rising from a new source that he couldn't understand a blasted thing the armored figure had just said. He could've told him to rot in hell or that his mother was a bantha. Attempting to divert his anger before it began to cause its tell tale side effects, Grime studied the armor. None of them seemed to be the same, some similar colorings here and there but each set of armor seemed to be unique to each individual Mandalorian. He gazed into the slits of the T-visor for a moment to see if he could see the man behind it and then turned and proceeded towards the speeder. The Mandalorian dropped his fist slowly and looked to the other man standing beside him, exchanging a glance lost on Grime as he walked away.
Hawkins slid into the available seat, all the Mandalorians were sitting on the backs of their seats, legs propped on the sides with their rifles pointing out. Always vigilant. He'd made his way to one of their camps alone and never needed a rifle, but he appreciated the speeder and the extra security. Not that he was grateful or appreciated their efforts. This was merely expected from them after what De'Ville had done and what he had done for her.
The duration of the ride was spent studying the Mandalorians. Not only was their armor different in looks but upon closer inspection, the thickness wasn't even a standard measure and not all the plates were assorted in a similar fashion. And given a bit more time, Grime determined that from a distance, a Mandalorian might seem the same as the next but in function, each and every detail of one Mandalorian was specific to that one and that one alone. These weren't soldiers, made in a few weeks of training and stock ready for war. These were warriors through and through. While a respectable notion, they had still lost over and over again through out time.
The jungles of Onderon were lost to Grime, the blur of greens and the sky above held no interest as he continued to examine the Mandalorians and their equipment.
They hadn't been rude about it, nor polite. Seeming to appear out of thin air as they turned off their personal cloaking fields as he had stepped out into the Wilds of Onderon. They had been waiting, not necessarily for him, but waiting nonetheless.
Obviously De'Ville had given them enough to recognize Grime on sight and figure more or less what he would be going into the Wilds for as they had a speeder with one extra seat just warming its engine up as he continued to approach the group. One of the Mandalorian's rose its fist and spoke, the strong voice coming through the helmet's speaker fine.
"Su cuy'gar."
Grime stopped and looked to the Mandalorian, frustration rising from a new source that he couldn't understand a blasted thing the armored figure had just said. He could've told him to rot in hell or that his mother was a bantha. Attempting to divert his anger before it began to cause its tell tale side effects, Grime studied the armor. None of them seemed to be the same, some similar colorings here and there but each set of armor seemed to be unique to each individual Mandalorian. He gazed into the slits of the T-visor for a moment to see if he could see the man behind it and then turned and proceeded towards the speeder. The Mandalorian dropped his fist slowly and looked to the other man standing beside him, exchanging a glance lost on Grime as he walked away.
Hawkins slid into the available seat, all the Mandalorians were sitting on the backs of their seats, legs propped on the sides with their rifles pointing out. Always vigilant. He'd made his way to one of their camps alone and never needed a rifle, but he appreciated the speeder and the extra security. Not that he was grateful or appreciated their efforts. This was merely expected from them after what De'Ville had done and what he had done for her.
The duration of the ride was spent studying the Mandalorians. Not only was their armor different in looks but upon closer inspection, the thickness wasn't even a standard measure and not all the plates were assorted in a similar fashion. And given a bit more time, Grime determined that from a distance, a Mandalorian might seem the same as the next but in function, each and every detail of one Mandalorian was specific to that one and that one alone. These weren't soldiers, made in a few weeks of training and stock ready for war. These were warriors through and through. While a respectable notion, they had still lost over and over again through out time.
The jungles of Onderon were lost to Grime, the blur of greens and the sky above held no interest as he continued to examine the Mandalorians and their equipment.