From what she had heard, it seemed the mechanic had some news to share with his rescuers. During the morning hours, Raven let Fé and Garen know that the mechanic wanted to share something with them and that she would head over to his shop this afternoon.

By now, her armored figure and helmet was becoming a regular sight for the locals here, causing less stares and looks as she walked through the town of New Hope...

Garen walked with her, or rather half a step behind. His larger presence was definitely there, and definitely felt, but he was more than willing to let Raven take the lead.

His head didn't swivel much towards the townsfolk, but he did glance at his companions from time to time. Sheathed in metal, his expression was, of course, unreadable.

Fé's expression was unreadable, but her movements weren't. Her body language was relaxed, just enough tension to be ready in case of emergency. "Did they give any indication of what it might be about?"

"Not sure, but it sounded like it was something about that droid he found down in those sunken ruins. Something that might be of interest to us?" there was a hopeful tone in her voice at the end of the sentence.

As they approached Dimitri's Shop, Raven gave the door a solid knock with her armored hand.

Dimitri's shop found itself with a new flavor as classical music plays lightly in the lobby. When Raven's hand connects with the front door to knock it glides open, a small and hardly noticeable door jam having kept the entrance pried open.

Inside Dimitri could be heard working from the back inside the workshop, but he didn't seem to be alone as a conversation was carrying on.

Raven's head turned to the other two, then with a shrug she went ahead inside, figuring that if Dimitri didn't want visitors the door wouldn't have been left pried open. Although she didn't rule out the possibility of danger and kept her senses alert as she stepped inside, trying to pick up whatever conversation was going on...

"Irritated: Your constant queries grow tiresome, meatbag. Cease and desist your attempts immediately."

"Now now no need to get testy new friend, just tryna figure you out to find you a nice new purpose in this great big-"

"Annoyed: Return my arms and I will return my purpose on my own. Statement: Perhaps you should reconsider your designated purpose?"

Entering into the workshop the Mandalorians were treated to the sight of a mechanic in his element. Tools were scattered about in orderly chaos to the uninitiated. When the first of them enter the mechanic himself spins to greet them, a smile on his face and arms opening wide.

"Oh! Welcome!"

Suspended by small lifts, cables, and a few chains the droid they'd seen the mechanic recover was active again but disassembled a bit. Arms and legs were removed leaving the torso to hang in it's suspended state allowing the mechanic free reign to poke around as he saw fit.

"Exhausted: Great. More meatbags..."

Garen, likewise shrugging, followed Raven in, turning a little to make sure his shoulders didn't clip the frame.

"Don't let us interrupt." Garen said dryly, amused by the banter. If, indeed, it was banter. "Unless you need a hand. Uh, I mean, some help." Given the request for arms, Galen figured he'd better clarify.

"Uhh..." Raven wasn't quite sure what she was looking at. Well, it was a droid, that much she knew, but what was important about it eluded her right now, and she was just a bit taken aback for a moment with the scene in front of her.

Somehow, even with the helmet on, she managed to look confused.

Looking just as perplexed as Raven the mechanic adjusts himself to face Garen more. Shaking his head with enthusiasm, rapidly shifting gears, "No help needed. Giving back, actually," he nods toward a device of some kind on a nearby counter.

"Right there is an apparent recording device- or just the playback? Whatever it is it speaks in some language I ain't ever heard of but maybe you folk might have a use for. Could also just be a hunk 'o junk," he shrugs.

Static rios through the air as the droid speaks up, "Aggrieved: This meatbag has stolen my masters message. I request you eliminate the meatbag and return my masters property."

"Master?" her attention focused in a bit more on the droid. "Who is this master you speak of?"

"Proudly: My master, Torith Cadera, the greatest killer of all time and a true craftsman of the art."

Dimitri raises a brow, "Well, the texts did say these droids had.. personality," he chuckles with the barest hint of embarrassment hidden beneath.

"I wonder if we'd find that message a little more understandable then," she mused.

Garen jerked a thumb towards Raven. "She's a Cadera. Raven Cadera. Given that your master is probably long dead, I'd say she's probably as rightful a recipient of the message as anyone."

He looked at the mechanic. "Can we hear it now? Maybe we'll recognize it." It seemed unlikely, but, well, you never knew.

It was worth a shot, though Raven figured she probably had no relation to a distant Cadera she had never heard of. "Let's hear the message, yeah." She looked to Fé. "Who knows, it could be in Mando'a."

"Exactly my thought," she agreed. "Or one of us may recognize it if it's not."

This droid took a long time to respond. So long, in fact, Dimitri almost moved to check if it has somehow died on them before a shift of it's head proved it's functionality.

"Doubtful: My master was the sender of this message, and your comprehension is doubtful."

The droid sighs.

"Exhausted: However, you are correct and the recipient like all meatbags eventually spoil."

"Statement: I will allow it."

With a soft click the audio recording begins to play. Opening up with the sound of boots on metal, shouts back and forth in the distance, as well as voices giving war cheers. All softly heard as if they were distant behind the recording.

"Irizka-" is the only word that is understood, and it is only said at the start. Except for the sparse additions of mando'a spoken in the background which makes up common battle phrases the main speaker sounds of a woman with a harsh voice that is speaking a harsher and ancient language.

[Raven Cadera may spend a Destiny should she wish to gain aid here.]

The name certainly drew her attention and Raven stepped a bit closer, leaning in in hopes that it would let her hear the message better.

----

OOC: Destiny spent!

"Irizka I found her, she's alive," a voice, masked by the helm she wears comes out from behind them toward the front of the shop. Standing tall, standing proud, is a Mandalorian warrior whom is familiar to few but would draw the eye of many. Gold embellishments line her plate to draw the eye of any and all, and she didn't stop there as a thick fur rests around her shoulders.



Raven knows this warrior as Tir, an old friend to Dex.

"She's on Belsavis. She can be saved. We can still fight," she says, clearing her throat. "That is what the message says."

Raven's own helmeted head turned around to the familiar voice, surprise evident in her posture. The fact that she was not reaching for her weapons was hint enough for her companions that this wasn't an enemy.

"Tir," she greeted, a closed fist touching her own breastplate over the heart briefly. "... How did you figure that out?"