TAG: Astrid pentoghast
The poor Assassin had failed to kill
Fiolette Yvarro
and so she took her ship and headed to Dathomir. There landing her on a ridge of overlooking the great peaks of scarlet, The Shamed Shinobi sat crossed legged and laid a shoto saber in front of her lower waist. Taking a injector of The Spice she held it to her neck. There was the loud shriek of the Rancors gathering for the feast.
Miraage felt the rush of the augmented spice enter her blood stream. She certain senses dull, particularly fear and pain. She had proven she was nothing, that she was incapable of being a Shikkar. And si she lifted the shoto saber hilt. She had come to the world of witches because her body would be the source of nourishment for the indigenous life. Her death wouid give life.
There the broken woman took off her mouth piece and laid it aside. Her garnet eyes dilated and her resolve firm. The agent was circulating inside her as she unfurled her hair. Beside her was a great gnarled oak, it creaked in the wind as she removed her black gloves and set them beside her face mask. There was an echo of voices, liie chatter, whispers of watchers of Dathomir. She couod not hear their words, her mind dull save to accomplish one will and one will alone. She could not sense the creeping smoke of peridot, it beginning to obfuscate all around her. As she held the shoto ready, the whispers grew louder and swirls of the green fog outstretched like hands on her shoulders.
The poor Assassin had failed to kill
Fiolette Yvarro
and so she took her ship and headed to Dathomir. There landing her on a ridge of overlooking the great peaks of scarlet, The Shamed Shinobi sat crossed legged and laid a shoto saber in front of her lower waist. Taking a injector of The Spice she held it to her neck. There was the loud shriek of the Rancors gathering for the feast. Miraage felt the rush of the augmented spice enter her blood stream. She certain senses dull, particularly fear and pain. She had proven she was nothing, that she was incapable of being a Shikkar. And si she lifted the shoto saber hilt. She had come to the world of witches because her body would be the source of nourishment for the indigenous life. Her death wouid give life.
There the broken woman took off her mouth piece and laid it aside. Her garnet eyes dilated and her resolve firm. The agent was circulating inside her as she unfurled her hair. Beside her was a great gnarled oak, it creaked in the wind as she removed her black gloves and set them beside her face mask. There was an echo of voices, liie chatter, whispers of watchers of Dathomir. She couod not hear their words, her mind dull save to accomplish one will and one will alone. She could not sense the creeping smoke of peridot, it beginning to obfuscate all around her. As she held the shoto ready, the whispers grew louder and swirls of the green fog outstretched like hands on her shoulders.