Darth Hauntruss
Wraith of the Sith
HAUNTRUSS DOWN TIME EPSIODE 1: GOD DAMN IT MAURICE
CORUSCANT, HAUNTRUSS' DARK SPIRE
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DS1LWb6g5Wc
A low hiss echoed throughout the dark chambers of the Dark Spire, the central home of Inquisitorial Warmaster Darth Hauntruss. Appearing from the repulsor lift Hauntruss dragged herself in exhausted steps into the main hallway that led to her meditation chamber. A heavy sigh slithered from her lips and like iron rain tanked to the floor. You see, being a sinister dealer in death and destruction was indeed a fabulously sexy and vile occupation…but damn the darkside if it wasn’t rough on the mind and body. The usual powerful up right posture of Hauntruss was now a drooping slump. Waving her black gloved fingers the secondary doors opened and Hauntruss stumbled to the changing quarters of her chamber.Removing her cloak and her dark robes to reveal her black leather bra and Brazilian cut panties, you know the ones – the ones that cut up top so the give a little peak at the cheeks (heh yah you do). Reaching out Hauntruss ducked below some drawers to find her extra comfy pajama bottoms. Of course these were not any ordinary ones. These were the red ones with black star destroyers dotted all over in cute shortened cartoony doodles, with the fuzzy fabric that made it feel like you were slipping on a pair ewoks. But, for some reason she couldn’t find them. Now usually, Hauntruss was a composed and devilishly calm type- you know – the kind that’ll have a really crappy day and say absolutely nothing (never trust the silent ones kids). But, on this occasion, with the stress levels too high old hissey blew a darkside equivalent of gasket.
Angrily ripping her pink leisure bath robe from its coat rack, the one with "#1 Sith Lady" written on the back, given to her by her Death Dragoons for Imperial Mother’s day Hauntruss in irritated and drawn out stomps marched back to the elevator. While in the elevator the lift abruptly stopped at lower level opening to reveal a group of Imperial staff who were on their way to a meeting. Shocked by seeing the Sith lord of dark defilement and Imperial destruction in pink leisure robe and dishevelled hair they froze. Awkward glances were shared by the Imperial staff each cowardly trying to use their eyes to force the other sto speak. Of course Hauntruss having no time for any of this fething nerfherder bullwaste waved the force to close the doors and instead just watched the annoyance disappear between to elevator sliding doors. Sighing once more the dark lady rubbed her eyes and then her temples. Could it get any more irritating?
Why oh yes. The elevator was playing the annoying jingle that previously had lodged itself in her brain like some sith spawn plague during the last Jedi Enclave purge. It was a fickle jingle with an irrelevant beat that made no sense to the larger temp but somehow possessed some memorable melody that would not leave. Another sigh, this one with some added force annoyance. Finally, the doors let out a mechanical shriek as the opened to the floor she had first intended to arrive at. The laundry floor. Greeting her as she walked in was stormtrooper Maurice, in his laundromat apron and hat. With a forced polite tone Huantruss approached Maurice.
“Maurice.” Hauntruss barked. “Did you finish my laundry as I instructed- BEFORE – I returned from the Jedi culling operations?” Maurice, a drop out who had initially wanted to be the next Commander Cody- replied with a sassy, “No honey.” Hauntruss could feel the urge to kill boiling. “What.” She questioned. “Listen honey.” Maurice preached, “Those pajamas are made of the fabric that needs tender care and love – you feel me? It takes time.” Hauntruss glared with unknown rage building so much that her right eye spasmed at the unintelligible answer.
“Maurice.” Hauntruss began again, this time with an out of place serenity washing over her words, “You know that thing when I watch you try and dance to Cantina music in some strange hip and butt throbbing motion.” Maurice tilted his head, “Yah, it’s called Twi’erking. Why?” Hauntruss raised her hands and as she did the force snapped in a malevolent grasp that crushed Maurice’s throat rendering him silent. Gasping and wildly gesturing to be free, Hauntruss continued, “I imagine it will be difficult if I crushed your legs and arms. Do you…feel…me?” Maurice mustered all the air left in his lungs to squeeze a short, “yah….ugh…guh…I feel yah.”
To Be Continued....
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