Search Posts
T'zor grimaces, but doesn't disagree. "Though I lost my cool earlier, I do agree that it would be right to question them. At the very least, if it turns out Duravor was killed as part of a plot, I will have all the reason to find those responsible and bring them to justice."
T'zor looks Soryn in the face, blinking slowly, arms crossed in consternation. "We are taught, even while we are with our parents, that every meeting is a blessing. Duravor respected me and my dreams, even as a foolish youngling," the Shirren man says, sorrow clear in his eyes. "Even if he was just humoring me, none were so willing to encourage me to reach my goals. Even my family wished to keep me safe on the Zkorynt, but he understood how much I wish to travel the stars on my own power, to go where I have not been before," T'zor states, uncrossing his arms and placing a hand over his chestpiece, as determination replaces the sadness in his eyes. "Meeting Duravor was surely Hylax's way of leading me to my destiny. I shall not disappoint her, and I will honor his memory. So, no, I am not alright... but I will be."
T'zor is quiet as the group speaks to the secretary. He keeps a vigil for people who may be watching their doings, hoping the uncomfortable feeling in his gut is simply loss, and not someone keeping tabs on them.
T'zor agrees with Burlap's intentions, nodding along. "It is the least we could do."
T'zor bristles slightly at the security officers, but attempts to cooperate. He is still noticeably distraught about Duravor's passing, and he remains mostly silent unless specifically questioned. Every few minutes, he sends worried glances over towards the fallen dwarf before blinking in a complex pattern that is strangely uncomfortable to watch. After a while, the Shirren man takes a deep breath and turns to the others. "Well," he begins, "I suppose it will fall to us to find someone who may have known what he wanted to ask of us. The least I can do in his honor is to fulfill his request, and I imagine some of you may feel the same."
With the gangers dead or escaped, T'zor stumbles over to Duravor's body. Slumping down next to the dwarf, the Shirren man can only stare at the wound in his friend's neck. "Why?" is all he can bring himself to say.
T'zor advances towards a pair of the gangers, continuing to fire on them with reckless abandon. The string of nonsense sounds he continues to utter do not seem to pause for even a moment. Where the suddenness of his shock caused his aim to fail him before, his focused fury now guides his shot directly to its target.
Went and had lunch with my parents. Hope you all have a great Mothers Day!
As Duravor falls to the ground, an expression somewhere between shock and disbelief comes to T'zor's face. As the others spring into action, he simply slumps to his knees, blinking slowly. Once the others start shooting, a string of near unintelligible clicks and growls begin to emit from the Shirren's mouth, nonsense even to any of his own kind who may be in listening distance. Though his people rarely speak out loud, it is clear that the young pilot is furious as can be, an exceedingly uncommon state for the Shirren people. He stands, shoulders his rifle, and begins firing at the first ganger he sees, cold flame burning in his eyes.
Enjoy your camping trip!
Blue it is!
T'zor gracefully maneuvers his way out of the crowded ship, his well-worn weapon slung over his right shoulder, and the rest of his assorted gear in a duffel bag over his left. Though it is hard to tell on a Shirren's face, he appears to still be slightly grumpy at Velocity's earlier quip. He ignores most of the Collective propaganda, more interested in finding his old friend in the throngs of people. When he finally spots the dwarf, he begins advancing quickly towards him, and his mild frustration is replaced with slightly more obvious elation. "Comrade!" he projects directly to Duravor as soon as he is within speaking distance, blinking happily.
T'zor looks slightly askance at Velocity. "Co-pilot, possibly. You will find me no slouch in that department," he states, blinking mischievously.
T'zor blinks his uniquely Shirren way, before rubbing the area beneath his mouth, even if he doesn't have anything resembling a chin. "Looking for adventure, I believe, is the most apt description of my plans. I am unsure how much I will be able to find, but I dream of flying around the universe from one adventure to another." He grins widely, surprisingly forthcoming with his desires.
T'zor doesn't actually intend for others to hear, he telepathically mutters, "I wonder if they would let me watch them work...?"The Ysoki does his best imitation of a shrug with his tiny shoulders. "Dunno, but it couldn't hurt to ask. In my experience flyers keep to themselves... but maybe that flight uniform would get you through the door?" T'zor seems to consider this, before realizing he was overheard. He spends the next few minutes attempting to be invisible, which is not particularly easy when you are a giant bug person. As the others chat, he eventually attempts to greet them. "Hello. I am called T'zor. I am glad that Hylax's grace brought us all here today."
Yeah, congratulations!
T'zor clearly recoils at the offer, but the Shirren man's calm smile doesn't fade. Though he is spindly, as most of his kind are, he fills out his pilot's uniform and heavy armor well. "More than food, I am interested to see what awaits us on the station," he replies directly into the Ysoki's mind. He blinks twice, his oversized and multifaceted eyes gleaming with excitement. He turns towards the shuttle's cabin, and blinks twice more. In a quieter voice, one it almost seems T'zor doesn't actually intend for others to hear, he telepathically mutters, "I wonder if they would let me watch them work...?"
Dot. Glad to be a part of this. I'll get my alias' statblock put together in the next day or two. |
