[Nightshift 35] Hall M41-M50
Wishing Vlad good luck, Qui-Gon gathered his things. Wearing his old clothes wouldn't be much of an advantage, but it would be enough: his robes and his tunic were a great deal thicker and more resilient than the flimsy patient shirts, and with boots, he could keep his legs protected. Considering the state of his injured knee, he knew he wouldn't be kicking down any doors in the near future. But it was still protection all the same. Strapping on his utility belt, Qui-Gon ran a hand over the nicks and scratches on its surface, all from years of his service as a Jedi, each with their own story, their own mission to tell. His hand passed over where he would normally clip his lightsaber, feeling like he was missing a companion.
Sighing, he finished dressing. If they were heading to the basement, he wouldn't bring the outer robes; he'd need maximum mobility in case they were attacked and they would get in the way. The extra protection they offered wasn't a good enough trade off at this moment. Tightening the belt and checking to make sure it was secure, Qui-Gon moved about the room, retrieving the Shield Artifact and his knife, sliding the blade into his belt. Next were the makeshift commlinks, which were small enough to fit in there as well.
He was as ready as he was going to get.
Qui-Gon tried to stretch out his senses. Blurry, muddled. The Force was stronger to him than it felt to him during the day in Doyleton, but he was still recovering from exerting himself so much the night before with those droids. He would have to focus. It wasn't the first time he pushed himself. Opening the now-unlocked door, the Jedi Master stepped out.
[headed this way]
Sighing, he finished dressing. If they were heading to the basement, he wouldn't bring the outer robes; he'd need maximum mobility in case they were attacked and they would get in the way. The extra protection they offered wasn't a good enough trade off at this moment. Tightening the belt and checking to make sure it was secure, Qui-Gon moved about the room, retrieving the Shield Artifact and his knife, sliding the blade into his belt. Next were the makeshift commlinks, which were small enough to fit in there as well.
He was as ready as he was going to get.
Qui-Gon tried to stretch out his senses. Blurry, muddled. The Force was stronger to him than it felt to him during the day in Doyleton, but he was still recovering from exerting himself so much the night before with those droids. He would have to focus. It wasn't the first time he pushed himself. Opening the now-unlocked door, the Jedi Master stepped out.
[headed this way]