Zenva Vrotoa
The Blood Matron
History has a way of repeating itself. Humans, in their infinite wisdom, believe they learn from their mistakes, and from the mistakes of their predecessors. And yet, year after year, generation after generation, they continue to make the same grievous mistakes over, and over again. Fascists forge new empires and plunge the galaxy into chaotic war. Republics build themselves up claiming they will bring peace, and unity to the galaxy. Each one swelling to obese proportions, and ultimately die, collapsing under their own weight.
This self-destructive behavior is even worse among the low lives of the galaxy. Criminals never seem to learn from their failings. Oh sure, they will learn a trick or two to prolong their inevitable failure, but ultimately they will slink back into the habits they know best. Thieves will convince themselves they have garnered new skills that will ensure they are never caught again. Murderers will believe themselves untouchable the longer their crimes go unpunished. And no where in the galaxy is this behavior worse than on Nar Shaddaa.
The Smuggler's Moon, a reeking cesspit of unadulterated villainy and corruption. No government in history had succeeded in quelling the infamous criminal moon. No laws had ever held much sway here except those enforced by more powerful criminal elements. It was no small coincidence that criminals flocked here, even those who had forgotten what they truly were.
Vortex, such a simple name for a creature that provoked such intense hostility from the Blood Matron. A creature thought missing, or dead for years now had finally been found. Worse still, the little creature had been found in the same region of space Zenva now called home. This was an opportunity the Zabrak simply couldn't let slip through her crimson fingers. It was high time Zenva's lost property was returned to her by any means necessary.
The Watering Hole, a cheap, run down little cantina in a district recently renamed The Butcher Block. It was in this little bar that Zenva's Elites had finally caught up to the small woman known as Vortex. They appeared slowly, alone or in pairs. Soon it became difficult to ignore the growing number of heavily armed soldiers in matching body armor. The smartest, or most cowardly, of the cantina's occupants began to leave of their own accord. Others were approached, and told in low, menacing tones to evacuate. Not long after the first pair had entered did the cantina become nearly desolate. Some dozen and a half soldiers with matching armor and weapons now stood in a half circle around one small woman sitting at the bar. Vortex.
One soldier took a step forward, still well beyond the woman's reach. A harsh male voice rumbled out of the soldier's helmet. "Vortex, let's not make a scene. Set any weapons you're carrying on the bar, and stand up with your hands on your head." A pair of magnetic shackles dangled in the man's hand.
[member="Sapphire Vortex"]
This self-destructive behavior is even worse among the low lives of the galaxy. Criminals never seem to learn from their failings. Oh sure, they will learn a trick or two to prolong their inevitable failure, but ultimately they will slink back into the habits they know best. Thieves will convince themselves they have garnered new skills that will ensure they are never caught again. Murderers will believe themselves untouchable the longer their crimes go unpunished. And no where in the galaxy is this behavior worse than on Nar Shaddaa.
The Smuggler's Moon, a reeking cesspit of unadulterated villainy and corruption. No government in history had succeeded in quelling the infamous criminal moon. No laws had ever held much sway here except those enforced by more powerful criminal elements. It was no small coincidence that criminals flocked here, even those who had forgotten what they truly were.
Vortex, such a simple name for a creature that provoked such intense hostility from the Blood Matron. A creature thought missing, or dead for years now had finally been found. Worse still, the little creature had been found in the same region of space Zenva now called home. This was an opportunity the Zabrak simply couldn't let slip through her crimson fingers. It was high time Zenva's lost property was returned to her by any means necessary.
The Watering Hole, a cheap, run down little cantina in a district recently renamed The Butcher Block. It was in this little bar that Zenva's Elites had finally caught up to the small woman known as Vortex. They appeared slowly, alone or in pairs. Soon it became difficult to ignore the growing number of heavily armed soldiers in matching body armor. The smartest, or most cowardly, of the cantina's occupants began to leave of their own accord. Others were approached, and told in low, menacing tones to evacuate. Not long after the first pair had entered did the cantina become nearly desolate. Some dozen and a half soldiers with matching armor and weapons now stood in a half circle around one small woman sitting at the bar. Vortex.
One soldier took a step forward, still well beyond the woman's reach. A harsh male voice rumbled out of the soldier's helmet. "Vortex, let's not make a scene. Set any weapons you're carrying on the bar, and stand up with your hands on your head." A pair of magnetic shackles dangled in the man's hand.
[member="Sapphire Vortex"]
