Sasori Arashi
Sasori the Homicidal Maniac, Worshipper of Khorne
Soldier (Eminem)
Sasori Arashi, once the slayer of Imperial troops and rival gang members, once a feared lieutenant of the once-notorious Eighth Street Dragons street gang, once again walked the streets of her old stomping grounds on Eshan. Night had fallen and the streets were lit up by artificial lighting. The glow of holograms, old-fashioned neon signage, and street lamps played across her pale skin. She wore a light wrap-around duster coat, lined with armourweave, in purple over her black and purple active-wear capris and crop top. Her feet, however, were bare, as usual with a gang tattoo on the right foot and purple toenails.
In her coat she concealed her hold out-blaster, her money, and a baton that was designed to extend into a solid quaterstaff. However, she had training in higher forms of Echani martial arts and technically didn't need these weapons. She found them useful, nevertheless, and enjoyed their use and the advantages they provided in certain situations. Always known to be a troublemaker, of course, she had just roughed up another small-time gang member and had taken what little he had without much of a second thought.
Sasori wanted to belong again, more than anything, and often took out her frustration at being eight-hundred years removed from the Galaxy she knew on others with not much more provocation than a glance in her direction. She had to build up a new reputation and try to build her old gang back up from scratch. Of course, beating the sense out of those she perceived as rivals to her gang attracted violent attention... attention she was extending the invitation for willfully and knowingly. Crazy, some might call her, and she might well have been slightly touched, but she was deliberate and knew what she was doing. Those who would not capitualte would die... or she would, whichever one came first... and she relished living on the edge.
Sasori Arashi, once the slayer of Imperial troops and rival gang members, once a feared lieutenant of the once-notorious Eighth Street Dragons street gang, once again walked the streets of her old stomping grounds on Eshan. Night had fallen and the streets were lit up by artificial lighting. The glow of holograms, old-fashioned neon signage, and street lamps played across her pale skin. She wore a light wrap-around duster coat, lined with armourweave, in purple over her black and purple active-wear capris and crop top. Her feet, however, were bare, as usual with a gang tattoo on the right foot and purple toenails.
In her coat she concealed her hold out-blaster, her money, and a baton that was designed to extend into a solid quaterstaff. However, she had training in higher forms of Echani martial arts and technically didn't need these weapons. She found them useful, nevertheless, and enjoyed their use and the advantages they provided in certain situations. Always known to be a troublemaker, of course, she had just roughed up another small-time gang member and had taken what little he had without much of a second thought.
Sasori wanted to belong again, more than anything, and often took out her frustration at being eight-hundred years removed from the Galaxy she knew on others with not much more provocation than a glance in her direction. She had to build up a new reputation and try to build her old gang back up from scratch. Of course, beating the sense out of those she perceived as rivals to her gang attracted violent attention... attention she was extending the invitation for willfully and knowingly. Crazy, some might call her, and she might well have been slightly touched, but she was deliberate and knew what she was doing. Those who would not capitualte would die... or she would, whichever one came first... and she relished living on the edge.