The Songstress Reborn
It was always a swamp, wasn't it? It always had to be a swamp. The once mighty Ariealla lamented her state of affairs, hunting her old possessions on hot, filthy Nal Hutta of all places. Hutts and their greed, their lust for possessions they hardly understood... just to have them... oh she would flay alive whoever had taken that which belonged to her. The silvery hair of Ariealla was somehow managing to stay clear of any gunk from the planet's many swampy marshes, and her indigo eyes scanned the horizons for any sign of movement.
At her hip, both her sith blade and saberstaff clinked against her body with each motion. Unlike some sith, who opted for dark and depressing colors, she chose to wear beautifully purple robes, dresses even, with a small assortment of rings. She had grown tired of the dark and depressive attitude sith tended to hold, and found the royal-esque colors suited her very nicely. Though it did mean she would have a painful day of laundry to deal with.
Oh the things she dealt with for style... well no matter. Soon enough she should be making contact with an individual that she had, persuaded to help her in return for not being killed off like cattle. A rodian smuggler who was very poor at hiding. He'd spilled the details of a local hutt holding a very particular holocron she wished very dearly to have back, and she fully intended to use the man to get to it.
What ever could go wrong?
[member="Darth Abyss"]
At her hip, both her sith blade and saberstaff clinked against her body with each motion. Unlike some sith, who opted for dark and depressing colors, she chose to wear beautifully purple robes, dresses even, with a small assortment of rings. She had grown tired of the dark and depressive attitude sith tended to hold, and found the royal-esque colors suited her very nicely. Though it did mean she would have a painful day of laundry to deal with.
Oh the things she dealt with for style... well no matter. Soon enough she should be making contact with an individual that she had, persuaded to help her in return for not being killed off like cattle. A rodian smuggler who was very poor at hiding. He'd spilled the details of a local hutt holding a very particular holocron she wished very dearly to have back, and she fully intended to use the man to get to it.
What ever could go wrong?
[member="Darth Abyss"]