The thick smell of drugs and smoke enveloped the woman as she entered the cantina. Her lithe figure was noticed by many, but they were careful to not be too obvious. This woman was deadly.

She was wearing a classic style of Mandalorian armor, fitted for a woman, however, and it was red highlighted with cream white. She was holding her helmet by her side with one hand, and most of her cleavage was showing. Her deep red hair was flung behind her and the rich maroon curls hung loosely at her back. In the dark and cantina she seemed to be followed by a deadly black aura.

People drew their eyes away from the woman and turned back to their tables. The noisy chatter filled the air once again as people shared rumors and things about the vicious bounty hunter. Not much of it was true, but some was.

The woman was known as Arawyn. She shared the name of a deadly black and red flower that grew in the Gerian Topical Plains. The flower used sinister tentacles and poisons, similar to Arawyn’s own methods. It was obvious that she enjoyed the nickname, as the black flower was tattooed just above her right breast, with some showing and some not.

The bartender was frightened. His hand shook violently as he prepared her bloody mary. There was plenty to be scared of.

He handed her the glass, which she took. She gave him a cool smile, and he blushed and went away, ignoring the credits she’d laid out on the counter.

Her blue eyes were so out of place with her dark, mysterious body. Their grey blue color would have been comforting if the eyes didn’t belong to Arawyn.

Her whole face was a reminder of her violent past, with plenty of little scars or scratches, even though her face remained all the same flawless, with a light moonlike glow. Her pale skin was entrancing to some, but maybe it was because of its contrast to her dark hair and clothing. Her body was riddled with tattoos, henna, and body art, but you couldn’t see all of it because of her armor. There was a particularly noticeable tattoo by her left eye. It was a collection of three, small black stars, right under her eyeline. They were her trademark, besides the arawyn flower.

She sipped her bloody mary and looked around with a deadly glint. No one escaped her death glare. Things went quiet again, and then Arawyn turned back to the bar and set down her glass. The entire cantina seemed to sigh with relief, and the flustered bartender came to collect her glass and credits. She stepped daintily off of the barstool and strode smoothly out of the room, her footsteps echoing off the cold marble floor. Her presence hung over the room like a shadow, even though she was no longer there.