Giant rampaging beetles. Of course. Because after the Empire, the First Order, a rebelling nephew and smugglers of all walks of life and slime, this was clearly the next step. Threat to the city? Why not? A necessary mobilization of all defenses no matter how rudimentary or wasteful? Definitely a great plan. What could possibly go wrong?
Everything.
Luke almost missed his far away island of Ahch-To. Almost, but a very small part of him was curious how a city of castaways was actually going to pull this off. He had allowed himself to be convinced to assist with the part of the plan of redirecting the behemoth insectoids away from the city. He feigned any necessary need to actually enter combat and no one so far had called him out. He had volunteered. What more could they ask of him?
He waited for the circling order, a sprig of native grass clenched between his teeth as he chewed the stem. The grass waved up and down and back and forth with both his chewing and the occasional breeze. No one appeared to be in danger so far, which made it easy to suppress all those old reckless inclinations.
That's right. Just leave the older guy alone. Nothing to see here.
ii. Drift Compatible
Piloting was admittedly one of the pleasures that he missed the most, the one where there were both far too many and just enough expectations. With his trusty X-wing gone and sunk, who was he to give into temptation and slowly raise a hand to admit that he had experience with piloting for an opportunity to get behind one of those massive mechs. Of course, it made him ache for R2D2 to assist in the endeavor, but apparently they were going to partner up.
So not only were the giant creations not battle tested, but they would be thrown together in hopes of some piloting compatibility? What could possibly go wrong? Could there be a worse plan?
Luke took one look at the individual who he was paired with for this piloting exploit and frowned so deeply all the lines in his face somehow stood out plainly. He shook his head and huffed, stomping away to the controls to investigate the flight controls and navigation system. "I'm piloting, and you're going to try not to get us immobilized or damaged."
v. Network [Text; un: goaway]
This is the worst sense of peace an afterlife could come up with. How about immediate transport to somewhere that actually knows quiet?
And better fashion sense.
vi. Wildcard
[Come at me, bros... and bras? Also, will match action or prose as replied here.]
Luke Skywalker | Star Wars
Giant rampaging beetles. Of course. Because after the Empire, the First Order, a rebelling nephew and smugglers of all walks of life and slime, this was clearly the next step. Threat to the city? Why not? A necessary mobilization of all defenses no matter how rudimentary or wasteful? Definitely a great plan. What could possibly go wrong?
Everything.
Luke almost missed his far away island of Ahch-To. Almost, but a very small part of him was curious how a city of castaways was actually going to pull this off. He had allowed himself to be convinced to assist with the part of the plan of redirecting the behemoth insectoids away from the city. He feigned any necessary need to actually enter combat and no one so far had called him out. He had volunteered. What more could they ask of him?
He waited for the circling order, a sprig of native grass clenched between his teeth as he chewed the stem. The grass waved up and down and back and forth with both his chewing and the occasional breeze. No one appeared to be in danger so far, which made it easy to suppress all those old reckless inclinations.
That's right. Just leave the older guy alone. Nothing to see here.
ii. Drift Compatible
Piloting was admittedly one of the pleasures that he missed the most, the one where there were both far too many and just enough expectations. With his trusty X-wing gone and sunk, who was he to give into temptation and slowly raise a hand to admit that he had experience with piloting for an opportunity to get behind one of those massive mechs. Of course, it made him ache for R2D2 to assist in the endeavor, but apparently they were going to partner up.
So not only were the giant creations not battle tested, but they would be thrown together in hopes of some piloting compatibility? What could possibly go wrong? Could there be a worse plan?
Luke took one look at the individual who he was paired with for this piloting exploit and frowned so deeply all the lines in his face somehow stood out plainly. He shook his head and huffed, stomping away to the controls to investigate the flight controls and navigation system. "I'm piloting, and you're going to try not to get us immobilized or damaged."
v. Network
[Text; un: goaway]
This is the worst sense of peace an afterlife could come up with. How about immediate transport to somewhere that actually knows quiet?
And better fashion sense.
vi. Wildcard
[Come at me, bros... and bras? Also, will match action or prose as replied here.]