[The sudden creaking whine of the door may not be enough to startle this cottage's occupants. The slow footsteps approaching the door, maybe. But if that's not enough, consider the rhythmic whirring of servomotors that accompany said footsteps.
A strange, spindly machine, nearly two meters tall, enters the room. Each step it takes is rigid, deliberate, but soon it comes to an abrupt halt. Not only does it seem to become aware of its unfamiliar surroundings, but something else seems to have given it pause. Its optics leer down at one of its mechanical hands, its digits slowly curling inward.]
...I still function.
[The emotions behind that cryptic statement are difficult to decipher. But after a beat, the droid lowers its hand and says, in a dry, almost clinical sort of tone:]
Running diagnostic.
[The blood red sensors that line the droid's cylindrical head rotate in a full 360 degree arc as it takes in its surroundings.
Life form detected.
IG-11's optics swivel in the other occupant's direction.]
Identify yourself.
[C-C-CHANGES]
[Droids do not require food or drink for sustenance. Organics, however, do. And this strange new place is occupied by many organics.
He hasn't been able to find much in the way of supplies just yet, but for some reason or another, IG-11 felt the need to procure rations. It could prove a useful way to make allies. Allies would increase the probability of successfully resolving this mysterious phenomenon.
Every once in a while, he'll acquire a new target - wandering up to them with purpose before offering them a cup.]
Would you care for a refreshment?
[He looks intimidating, but at least he's polite?]
[WILD CARD]
[Up for something completely different? Feel free to PM me with anything else!]
IG-11 | Star Wars: The Mandalorian | Spoilers for Chapter 8
[The sudden creaking whine of the door may not be enough to startle this cottage's occupants. The slow footsteps approaching the door, maybe. But if that's not enough, consider the rhythmic whirring of servomotors that accompany said footsteps.
A strange, spindly machine, nearly two meters tall, enters the room. Each step it takes is rigid, deliberate, but soon it comes to an abrupt halt. Not only does it seem to become aware of its unfamiliar surroundings, but something else seems to have given it pause. Its optics leer down at one of its mechanical hands, its digits slowly curling inward.]
...I still function.
[The emotions behind that cryptic statement are difficult to decipher. But after a beat, the droid lowers its hand and says, in a dry, almost clinical sort of tone:]
Running diagnostic.
[The blood red sensors that line the droid's cylindrical head rotate in a full 360 degree arc as it takes in its surroundings.
Life form detected.
IG-11's optics swivel in the other occupant's direction.]
Identify yourself.
[C-C-CHANGES]
[Droids do not require food or drink for sustenance. Organics, however, do. And this strange new place is occupied by many organics.
He hasn't been able to find much in the way of supplies just yet, but for some reason or another, IG-11 felt the need to procure rations. It could prove a useful way to make allies. Allies would increase the probability of successfully resolving this mysterious phenomenon.
Every once in a while, he'll acquire a new target - wandering up to them with purpose before offering them a cup.]
Would you care for a refreshment?
[He looks intimidating, but at least he's polite?]
[WILD CARD]
[Up for something completely different? Feel free to PM me with anything else!]