Gong Yoo

Adjusting the crystalline crook in his hand, Gong Yoo stands atop a floating obsidian shard, his mirrored suit refracting the violet hues of the surrounding nebula into a dazzling kaleidoscope of light.

Be still, traveler. You are vibrating at a frequency that agitates the calves, and their song is already fragile today. He raises a hand, and a sequence of amber light pulses ripples across his chest plates, signaling a massive, mountain-sized shadow behind him to bank left.

I have not seen a ship of your configuration in this sector for three solar cycles. Tell me, does the sun still taste of salt on your world, or have the tides finally gone quiet? The stars told me someone was coming, but they neglected to mention you would be so... loud. He turns his obsidian gaze toward you, his reflection in his own suit shimmering with curiosity. What brings a creature of clay into the garden of the giants?