Ara'myss Zankarr
Lost Granddaughter of Evil
MUSIC:
The case was polished chrome adorned with aurebesh etchings in fine calligraphic font. It was fashioned in the shape of a squat oval and was capped with a small bronzium gilded cap. When the cap was twisted off, a fine powder of sweetspice snuff was delicately tipped out into the stretched webbing between the index finger and thumb. The natural dimple of the stretched skin cupped the little mound of snuff as its fine grains glimmered in the neon kaleidoscope that was the nightscape of the Seven Corners districts. Ara’myss Zankarr dipped her down and in a graceful single movement, snorted the snuff as she raised her head back up. She threw her head back and dragged deep sniffing inhales through her nostrils. While her head was cocked back she brought her golden half-gloved to her mouth where she licked the remnant particles of snuff, licking her lips with the tip of her tongue.
Her head was slow to droop back down and peer down at the Dark Jedi attire she wore. Grey and augmented by cyberweave implants in the bodyweave suit, it was powered, electronically monitored and accessorized with a scoundrel’s jacket. Her metal tipped boots sat on top each other on the front handle’s panels of her 22-B Nightfalcon Speeder Bike. The rest of her was slouched in the seat with her arms now folded across her chest. Her cybernetics enhanced and Force corrupted golden eyes blinked at the traffic as she eyed every flying shuttle, transport, and personal repulsor craft that crammed the urban sky lanes between the gnarled tower strata. They fed visual data that was processed into analytics via the computer rig mounted to her vambrace.
Suddenly, a passing flashy limo made its way to a hanging dock next to an entrance to an exchange dive - places of bizz in Denon. Ara'myss lunged forward and slapped her hands onto the handles of her speeder bike. Simultaneously her feet fell down and kicked the bike’s engines alive. Revving the vehicle, the Dark Jedi spat from the roof she was perched from and flew into traffic. Weaving through them she caught up to the limo just as it disgorged the opulent guests who had disembarked. Drifting around the limo she drove right onto the balcony and slammed through a quickly dispersing crowd to block the guests. The guest was a corpulent Devaronian who was escorted by a troop of hired guns. Ara’myss dismounted and ripped her saber from her belt. Nonchalantly brandishing it like some gunslinger's blaster, she activated it’s yellow plasmatic blade and waltzed over to Devaronian.
“Schutta’fatz! You insane Ara?” the Devaronian roared.
“Not really Vech,” Ara’myss jeered, “Just bored. You’ve screwed me for the last time, sold one too many spice runs off my network, you honry sack of banthacrap.”
“Don’t mess with me Ama. I know people! Powerful people.” said Vech.
“Feth your people Vech,” Ara’myss said as Vech commanded his guns to rush her blasters belching rounds with disregard for collateral.