Sinistra
Character
A long, long time ago, before many things had come to pass, there was blip in the history books that was banished as quickly as it had arisen. It had emanated from Manaan, in a tiny little dive bar in West Ahto City called the Mortus. There, many great and powerful men and women pledged their lives and loyalty to one crazed ancient who spoke in nonsequiters and drank more than he breathed. He was The Black Lord and those who followed him were Óglaigh na Iarndóideanna, Warriors of the Iron Fist. In the blink of a eye, they had conquered far and fallen low, to be relegated to the dusty forgotten lore of a galaxy that moved past them.
The Iron Fists and their high king were gone now, however the tiny little dive bar was still there. It had been leveled and rebuilt new and rundown again so many times that the only parts of it that were original were the scuffed signs that were hung on the wall of all the previous names of the bar. Right now, it was called EPBOW, in all capital letters but the word was nonsense to the bar patrons. Those who truly could have told what the acronym was had been dead for nearly 700 years. The current owner found it on a phrik jug that appeared to have survived whatever misfortune had befallen it over the years in Ahto City.
Sinistra had found this place when she was in her late 20's.
She loved it. It was a wreck. She was no one here and that's all that ever mattered. They played some serious blues on the jukebox, the drinks were good and it was always dark, like too many people had hangovers to deal with sunlight.
For a Sith like her, it was heaven. As much as there could be one.
She felt relaxed here, sitting in a booth under the likeness of some gruesome mangled man bearing a torc with the initials ATD carved into it.
She was drinking a whiskey, no armor today, no masks. No real Sithiness to her at all. Just another spacer getting lost in EPBOW.
[member="Lamia"]
The Iron Fists and their high king were gone now, however the tiny little dive bar was still there. It had been leveled and rebuilt new and rundown again so many times that the only parts of it that were original were the scuffed signs that were hung on the wall of all the previous names of the bar. Right now, it was called EPBOW, in all capital letters but the word was nonsense to the bar patrons. Those who truly could have told what the acronym was had been dead for nearly 700 years. The current owner found it on a phrik jug that appeared to have survived whatever misfortune had befallen it over the years in Ahto City.
Sinistra had found this place when she was in her late 20's.
She loved it. It was a wreck. She was no one here and that's all that ever mattered. They played some serious blues on the jukebox, the drinks were good and it was always dark, like too many people had hangovers to deal with sunlight.
For a Sith like her, it was heaven. As much as there could be one.
She felt relaxed here, sitting in a booth under the likeness of some gruesome mangled man bearing a torc with the initials ATD carved into it.
She was drinking a whiskey, no armor today, no masks. No real Sithiness to her at all. Just another spacer getting lost in EPBOW.
[member="Lamia"]
