Post by Zandra on Jul 1, 2017 17:54:05 GMT -5
Midnight on Nar Shaddaa.
Neon lights, smog and rain. A million sentient beings scurrying from one place to another. Businesses, apartments, cantinas.
One of these, a crooked building, tucked away at the end of a dirty street, with broken signs and broken windows, was home to a woman. Not just any woman. Back in her day, she'd been one of the most feared woman in the outer rim. Her band of criminals roamed the Galaxy, taking what they wanted, leaving nothing behind, but a rumor, a legend, almost. The Pirate Queen.
And now she was old, but the legend lived on, new rumors reaching her here behind the bar. New criminals who had been sent out to continue her work, while she enjoyed her peaceful retirement. Her riches were still growing, even as she mixed drinks and chatted with guests. Only a few knew who she was.
Only a few. Because if they knew, they would have known better than to fight in her bar.
"Thryk!" she called over her shoulder, as a large human man swung a fist at a green tw'lek man, "Gunna need ya to cover the bar fer me!"
She reached under a shelf full of glasses and snatched up a small blaster pistol. With one leap, she was up on the bar top and over again, raising the blaster and aiming a careful shot at the bottle the twi'lek had raised to bash the other man with. A shot ran out, shattering the glass and startling both of them enough to separate.
"Don' need ta hear excuses," Zandra cut them off before they could speak, "The rules'r righ' there fer you all ta see. Rule number 3. Now here's how it's gunna go down. Yer gunna empty yer pockets. All the credits ya have on ya. That's gunna be for damages. Then yer gunna git out. Now."
The human did what was asked immediately, well aware how a blaster bolt to his face would feel. The Twi'lek, on the other hand, grit his sharp teeth and seemed ready to argue. Zandra stared back at him before jerking her head towards her large and hairy business partner.
"I asked nicely. Thryk there, he don' ask at all."
Neon lights, smog and rain. A million sentient beings scurrying from one place to another. Businesses, apartments, cantinas.
One of these, a crooked building, tucked away at the end of a dirty street, with broken signs and broken windows, was home to a woman. Not just any woman. Back in her day, she'd been one of the most feared woman in the outer rim. Her band of criminals roamed the Galaxy, taking what they wanted, leaving nothing behind, but a rumor, a legend, almost. The Pirate Queen.
And now she was old, but the legend lived on, new rumors reaching her here behind the bar. New criminals who had been sent out to continue her work, while she enjoyed her peaceful retirement. Her riches were still growing, even as she mixed drinks and chatted with guests. Only a few knew who she was.
Only a few. Because if they knew, they would have known better than to fight in her bar.
"Thryk!" she called over her shoulder, as a large human man swung a fist at a green tw'lek man, "Gunna need ya to cover the bar fer me!"
She reached under a shelf full of glasses and snatched up a small blaster pistol. With one leap, she was up on the bar top and over again, raising the blaster and aiming a careful shot at the bottle the twi'lek had raised to bash the other man with. A shot ran out, shattering the glass and startling both of them enough to separate.
"Don' need ta hear excuses," Zandra cut them off before they could speak, "The rules'r righ' there fer you all ta see. Rule number 3. Now here's how it's gunna go down. Yer gunna empty yer pockets. All the credits ya have on ya. That's gunna be for damages. Then yer gunna git out. Now."
The human did what was asked immediately, well aware how a blaster bolt to his face would feel. The Twi'lek, on the other hand, grit his sharp teeth and seemed ready to argue. Zandra stared back at him before jerking her head towards her large and hairy business partner.
"I asked nicely. Thryk there, he don' ask at all."
