WARNING! Adult Themes, Graphic Violence, and Alcohol Use.
The Underground was a Casino in the Outer Rim. The entire sphere of greed and avarice was inside an asteroid. Inside one of the cocktail cantinas that peddled drink to make more people sink their winnings into the house, losing it all, stood a lady of usual features. Her skin was ruby, in the shadows more scarlet in the light at times coral. Her stark white hair was matched by a corset that folded into pedals like a heart at her breasts down to her lower abdomen which had unusual belt that looked like chains with metal teeth that culminated in what appeared to be a winged handle at the back. The entire dress was as a ivory as her locks, finishing in tails that draped behind her hind qaurters but at her front was shorts that exposed her thighs and legs that ended in matching ivory boots. She was a sight, and one rather toasted individual would learn the hard way to not hit on this rare flower of flame.
A man in a white tux sauntered over to Chantra, he was intoxicated, she could tell as much from his breath as the slurred words that accompanied the stench.
“Hey.. lady.. cans I buya you a drink.”
Chantra gave no answer.
The drunk lieutenant stepped close and reached for her naked back, at the touch Chantra grabbed her the winged hilt and stepped aside as she drew the bladee teeth ans chains from her waist, swirling it in cyclone that wrappee around the man’a hand and arm like teeth in a ring, and with a motion she twisted the weapon so that it dug into his arm and sawed the arm clean off with blood dropping to cantina floor. The man cried out in horror as Chantra stood with her serpentine blade that snapee together as solid edge when she drew the chain of shards back. Two bouncers came and med droid helped escort the armless Buffon out.
So percise had been Chantra motions that not one drop of blood that touched her white dress. It remained spotless as she took a cloth at the bar and wiped it clean before loosening the chain and shards to make ot her belt once more. Another man in black leather with a hood approached and said with a whisper,
“You are an artist Lioness, I choose well.”
Chantra turned to see the Hooded Man, he was like many draped in the shadow cloth of the Sith, seeking to eliminate obstacles. In this case one obstacle.
Taking a seat the Dark Sider levitated a chair for Chantra who decided to turn it around and sit so that the arched hoop of back was a rest for her chin, her boots pressing occasionally to shift the chair into a falling position so that her pedals ans cleavage was visible. Her movements were not a dance of seduction, rather like a predator waiting to pounce on its prey.
“No doubt you know my offer and who I wish carved by your particular brush. Most important of all is the property I wish returned to me unspoiled. Accomplish this and you shall receive the sum agreed upon.”
Chantra was amazed how these dark lords assumed money or power was the principle interest of those they hire. She collected credits like chips, their worth was lost once her basic needs were supplied. The surplus she often would bet and lose on purpose making the gamblers melt which she found amusing. No for her the currency she most sought was blood, to use her talents as she had been trained, to paint with her chain blade a fresco of flesh.
With a nod she agreed as she pivoted up and down with her boots in the chair.
The Mysterious Lord handed hee a red screened datapad.
“All the particulars are in there. The vessel and its cargo must not fall into the wrong hands.”
Chantra grabbed the datapad and rose, placing it tightly against the chain and the shard teeth of her belt. As she began to step away, The Hooded Hirer interjected one more piece of information.
“Make sure that The One you find aboard the vessel is painted by your bladed brush into its haul.”
Turning her head, her white finely combed hair draping as her eye looked at him over he shoulder and she gave a bow.
Chantra headed to the hangar where he white washed Infiltrator class ship waited. The ramp was already down when an HK Unit , designation HK-66, greeted her. Its body blaster metal grey with a white Mythosaur skull painted around its yellow eyes.
“Mistress, ready to depart?”
She handed the datapad she had received that contained the last known coordinates of the vessel she was tasked and the Person who she was to ghost. HK-66 plotted a course as the bone colored craft began de-docking procedures and was loosed put the hangar of rock into the blackness of space. There The Pride made the jump to hyperspace and Chantra sat arching her white leather boots and her coral legs in her seat. She held a throwing star, the point on the tip of her finger suspended as her eyes watched the stars pass in streams.
The Underground was a Casino in the Outer Rim. The entire sphere of greed and avarice was inside an asteroid. Inside one of the cocktail cantinas that peddled drink to make more people sink their winnings into the house, losing it all, stood a lady of usual features. Her skin was ruby, in the shadows more scarlet in the light at times coral. Her stark white hair was matched by a corset that folded into pedals like a heart at her breasts down to her lower abdomen which had unusual belt that looked like chains with metal teeth that culminated in what appeared to be a winged handle at the back. The entire dress was as a ivory as her locks, finishing in tails that draped behind her hind qaurters but at her front was shorts that exposed her thighs and legs that ended in matching ivory boots. She was a sight, and one rather toasted individual would learn the hard way to not hit on this rare flower of flame.
A man in a white tux sauntered over to Chantra, he was intoxicated, she could tell as much from his breath as the slurred words that accompanied the stench.
“Hey.. lady.. cans I buya you a drink.”
Chantra gave no answer.
The drunk lieutenant stepped close and reached for her naked back, at the touch Chantra grabbed her the winged hilt and stepped aside as she drew the bladee teeth ans chains from her waist, swirling it in cyclone that wrappee around the man’a hand and arm like teeth in a ring, and with a motion she twisted the weapon so that it dug into his arm and sawed the arm clean off with blood dropping to cantina floor. The man cried out in horror as Chantra stood with her serpentine blade that snapee together as solid edge when she drew the chain of shards back. Two bouncers came and med droid helped escort the armless Buffon out.
So percise had been Chantra motions that not one drop of blood that touched her white dress. It remained spotless as she took a cloth at the bar and wiped it clean before loosening the chain and shards to make ot her belt once more. Another man in black leather with a hood approached and said with a whisper,
“You are an artist Lioness, I choose well.”
Chantra turned to see the Hooded Man, he was like many draped in the shadow cloth of the Sith, seeking to eliminate obstacles. In this case one obstacle.
Taking a seat the Dark Sider levitated a chair for Chantra who decided to turn it around and sit so that the arched hoop of back was a rest for her chin, her boots pressing occasionally to shift the chair into a falling position so that her pedals ans cleavage was visible. Her movements were not a dance of seduction, rather like a predator waiting to pounce on its prey.
“No doubt you know my offer and who I wish carved by your particular brush. Most important of all is the property I wish returned to me unspoiled. Accomplish this and you shall receive the sum agreed upon.”
Chantra was amazed how these dark lords assumed money or power was the principle interest of those they hire. She collected credits like chips, their worth was lost once her basic needs were supplied. The surplus she often would bet and lose on purpose making the gamblers melt which she found amusing. No for her the currency she most sought was blood, to use her talents as she had been trained, to paint with her chain blade a fresco of flesh.
With a nod she agreed as she pivoted up and down with her boots in the chair.
The Mysterious Lord handed hee a red screened datapad.
“All the particulars are in there. The vessel and its cargo must not fall into the wrong hands.”
Chantra grabbed the datapad and rose, placing it tightly against the chain and the shard teeth of her belt. As she began to step away, The Hooded Hirer interjected one more piece of information.
“Make sure that The One you find aboard the vessel is painted by your bladed brush into its haul.”
Turning her head, her white finely combed hair draping as her eye looked at him over he shoulder and she gave a bow.
Chantra headed to the hangar where he white washed Infiltrator class ship waited. The ramp was already down when an HK Unit , designation HK-66, greeted her. Its body blaster metal grey with a white Mythosaur skull painted around its yellow eyes.
“Mistress, ready to depart?”
She handed the datapad she had received that contained the last known coordinates of the vessel she was tasked and the Person who she was to ghost. HK-66 plotted a course as the bone colored craft began de-docking procedures and was loosed put the hangar of rock into the blackness of space. There The Pride made the jump to hyperspace and Chantra sat arching her white leather boots and her coral legs in her seat. She held a throwing star, the point on the tip of her finger suspended as her eyes watched the stars pass in streams.