Mon Calamari
Shipyard Calamari I
His footsteps anywhere else would have been loud raps and taps against the durasteel catawalk, annoying those who were not accustomed to the noise. And yet here, in the enormous shipyards of Mon Calamari his taps were drowned out by much louder noises, of the machinery and the yelling, the banging and clanging of the various droids and machines applying different parts to the different ships.
The admiral's hands were tucked behind his back, his eyes searching and exploring throughout the enormous infastructure as though accusingly, and yet none could see this behind his tinted eyepieces of that pale white helm. His Abjekian Warmask.
His guide ahead of him seemed a bit more into the whole activities going about than the admiral did, wanting to explain every single detail, every single nook and item about the ships and the construction process. Elegark simply sighed whenever he tried this. He had no interest, he only wanted to see his MC-40 and do away with all these administrative problems.
Ahead of him the man was rambling about something or other, flailing his hands around excitedly just to add to the dramatics of his little speeches. Elegark simply sighed.
His silence was simply due to pleasantries, and it kept the man distracted. Elegark was more interested in peering down at the near finished cruiser just below both of their sets of feet. It was the beginning of the Taskforce: Raven, Raven's Heart as Colonel Trevelan had wanted it to be named.
Its design was - as was typical to the Mon Cal - sleek and firm, however bulbuos and almost organic in structure, huge orbs where all the command and weapons stations were.
This was not a craft initially designed for war, this was a craft for pleasure, and to anyone else it would have been a tragedy that something so beautiful was now used to kill and destroy. Elegark was actually pleased however, he preferred his ships to be beautiful, if anything.
The excitement of walking through the labyrinth of corridors was etched clearly on his face, so he felt fortunate that he had that tribal warmask on then.
He remembered the first time the Mon Cals had seen him adorning it. They were surprised and semi-appauled, especially with the history between the Abjekian and the Mon Calamari.
Elegark did not have to mention that there was quite an extensive amount of Abjekian in his blood.
Finally the two stopped, the man in front of him stopping his moronic wailing. "And so you have it," he said suddenly, turning to face the admiral with a smile.
"Your ship is ready for its try outs."
Shipyard Calamari I
His footsteps anywhere else would have been loud raps and taps against the durasteel catawalk, annoying those who were not accustomed to the noise. And yet here, in the enormous shipyards of Mon Calamari his taps were drowned out by much louder noises, of the machinery and the yelling, the banging and clanging of the various droids and machines applying different parts to the different ships.
The admiral's hands were tucked behind his back, his eyes searching and exploring throughout the enormous infastructure as though accusingly, and yet none could see this behind his tinted eyepieces of that pale white helm. His Abjekian Warmask.
His guide ahead of him seemed a bit more into the whole activities going about than the admiral did, wanting to explain every single detail, every single nook and item about the ships and the construction process. Elegark simply sighed whenever he tried this. He had no interest, he only wanted to see his MC-40 and do away with all these administrative problems.
Ahead of him the man was rambling about something or other, flailing his hands around excitedly just to add to the dramatics of his little speeches. Elegark simply sighed.
His silence was simply due to pleasantries, and it kept the man distracted. Elegark was more interested in peering down at the near finished cruiser just below both of their sets of feet. It was the beginning of the Taskforce: Raven, Raven's Heart as Colonel Trevelan had wanted it to be named.
Its design was - as was typical to the Mon Cal - sleek and firm, however bulbuos and almost organic in structure, huge orbs where all the command and weapons stations were.
This was not a craft initially designed for war, this was a craft for pleasure, and to anyone else it would have been a tragedy that something so beautiful was now used to kill and destroy. Elegark was actually pleased however, he preferred his ships to be beautiful, if anything.
The excitement of walking through the labyrinth of corridors was etched clearly on his face, so he felt fortunate that he had that tribal warmask on then.
He remembered the first time the Mon Cals had seen him adorning it. They were surprised and semi-appauled, especially with the history between the Abjekian and the Mon Calamari.
Elegark did not have to mention that there was quite an extensive amount of Abjekian in his blood.
Finally the two stopped, the man in front of him stopping his moronic wailing. "And so you have it," he said suddenly, turning to face the admiral with a smile.
"Your ship is ready for its try outs."