Gutter Goddess
Suspended in low orbit was a cathedral to arrogance, a grand floating palace, the size of a massive city. Throneworld. And it was where anyone could expect to find Mercy, if they couldn't find her anywhere else. Just walk the gaudy halls, follow the sniveling of her graspborn, and arrive at the center of sycophants - her audience chamber.
But when the doors threw open, and a woman walked in, it wasn't Mercy seated on the throne at the far end, but another. Arris Windrun. A cybernetic disaster and the Core Empress's chief accomplice. Though she wasn't really sitting... more like lounging... more like lazy sprawling... and she stretched like a cat before pushing herself up on the comically large throne, adjusting herself to see who it was who entered, because to Windrun's disappointment, it wasn't Mercy.
The cyborg scowled. "And just who the hell are you?"
She pushed herself off and stumbled down the titan steps with the footwork of a drunkard. A pair of heavy revolvers jingled in her gutbelt, and by all accounts, this was more machine and woman staring back at the Hapan interloper. Only Windrun's head was covered in pale synthflesh, beneath a bob of dark hair crowning steel-colored eyes in shadow. The rest was all metal and fiber, colored black.
"Another pet?"
She was getting tired of Mercy's mounting collection.
The Force radiated something off Arris something hateful, but it wasn't directed at her specifically. No, Arris was just like that; touched by a vile and bitter darkness.