Blue Hide

CHARACTER PROFILE

Name: Lasdail

Race: Kruzen (live on outskirts of galaxy, nearly extinct, most are hired guns, bed reps)

Appearance:

Long black hair, wears plaited

         Sharply pointed ears

         Scar down right cheek

         Tattooed blue eyelids

         Dark green eyes

         Very pale skin with hint of blue

         Thin build



Weapon of choice: two blades embedded in bones of forearms and bow that folds out her palm only with a quiver of exploding tipped arrows



Dress: leather and light chain mail mix, leather pants and vest with arm guards, knee high boots, chain shirt with leather vest



Habits: twirls arrow when agitated, right eye twitches when she’s angry, adrenaline junkie (not afraid to kill for looking at her sideways), rough voice, tends to sneer at everyone

















































The Beginning…



         I hate the heat, hate sand, hate this whole damn planet of Vex. It’s full of nothing, but traitors and mongrels. Cowards the lot of them. But then again that’s probably just my bitterness built up over years and years of watching my kind wiped out systematically. ‘Til we were no longer deemed a threat.

         That’s what they think. But my kind will always be a threat. We have not survived for eons to be wiped out by mere humans.

         I land my small hovercraft outside Jackon’s lair, the Squiggly Octopus, and wipe sweat from my face. This heat is unbearable, but it was a job I couldn’t pass over. Not this one. Jackson, the lead of the local gang on planet Vex (not that I give a damn about his smuggling enterprises) was having bribing issues with the local collars. The same men that still looked down their noses at me and mine. Oh yes, I was happy to take care of them.

         Ignoring the disgusted looks and angry hisses of the locals, I grab my duffel with its precious cargo and jump down to the dusty street. Did I mention I hate dust too? Gets into the leather and chain mail. Takes days to wash out.

         “Hey Kruzt! Why don’t you offer me your services, eh?”

         Typical I grit my teeth and continue to walk away from what could turn into a bloody situation. I can already feel my right eye tick ticking from my rising anger.

          “Oh come on, sweetheart! I’ll your blue hide a pretty penny. At least I did the other blue hided ladies the other night.”

         I stop dead in my tracks. Sadly I left my bow tucked away on the hover, but by no means was I not armed. Thanks to my kind’s regenerating ability over the years, we’d come with…creative ways to conceal weapons. I turn on my heel and force a smile onto my scarred face. In three quick steps I reach the man with the loud mouth and delicately lay my hand on his shoulder, inches from his neck.

         “Like this, sweetheart,” I purr, swallowing bile.

         He shifts closer and warps an arm iron like around my waist. “Yeah baby, just like this. Come on sweet thing, give me some blue hided sugar.”

         Sweet thing. Guess he hasn’t noticed the duffel I’m carrying is dripping blood. “You want some sugar?”

         He nods and leans in. I shift my hand ‘til the underside of my wrist is near his neck. Still smiling, I twist my wrist and the blade that’s been embedded against the bone of my arm shoots forward and into the man’s jugular. He sputters as his eyes widen in surprise. The blade slides back home as I pull away, face blank as he chokes on his blood trying to staunch the wound with his hands. Futile attempt. He’ll be dead in seconds. As his life drains away, I turn and head into the Octopus.

         It’s dark as always and the harsh music assaults my ears. I suppress a curse and grip the bag tighter as I push my way through the throng of drinkers that always seem to be present at the Octopus. At least most of this crowd is too drunk to notice what I ma and the other half too drunk to care. When I reach the bar, the tall, green skinned beast behind it raises a brow. I lift the bleeding duffel and he calls out to the guard at the side door to let me through. The guard look s as if he’s about to say something until he sees the blood still covering my arm. Instead, he clamps his mouth shut and opens the door.

         Good choice. The hall is as dimly lit as the club, but I know exactly where I’m going. First left, second right, go upstairs not down. Down goes to what Jackson has so appropriately named the crypt. Needless to say the ones that crossed him wound up down there and never came back up. I reach the door to his office and bang my fist on it three times. A small door at head height opens and I glare back at the black eyes behind it.

         “Got something for Jackson,” I say holding the duffel up. “I suggest he takes them before they start to rot in my bag.”

         The eyes narrow, but the portal swings shut. A few seconds later the door’s unlocked and I’m beckoned inside. The man with the black eyes closes and locks the door behind me as usual. What’s not is the amount of guns in the room with Jackson. The man himself sits behind his metal desk and smiled when he sees the bag in my hands. “I see you’ve brought me present, Lasdail,” he croons getting up from his chair. “Let us see, then.”

         I reach into the bag and grab the first head my fingers touch. I pull it out and toss it across the room where it rolls leaving a trail of blood all the way to Jackson’s feet. The face of the High Lord stares up at him, fear frozen in place forever. I still remember the feel of my blades slicing through his neck.

         Jackson picks the head up gingerly. “This isn’t the Duke.”

         “No? My mistake, here,” I say as I pull the second head out and toss it at his feet.

         “I’m only paying you for one,” he says instantly.

         I shrug. “Consider the first one a bonus. He got in the way.”

         Jackson smiles and hands both heads to two of his guns. “Take them to the crypt. We’ll display them tomorrow.” As the men leave, he reaches back to his desk and picks up a leather pouch. “Your money,” he says and tosses it to me.

         The moment I catch it I know it’s not everything I was promised. “Little short, Jackson. Skimping me?”

         “Business is what it is, blue hide. Now get the hell out of my club.”

         I tuck the small pouch inside my pocket, but don’t move. I watch the guns, their hands tensing around the triggers. The moment I turn my back I’ll be dead. There are six guns in the room, plus Jackson. Not bad odds all in all. I grin then smash my hand against the light switches, plunging the room into darkness. The next few minutes are only screams.



          After I pick through his pockets, I kick Jackon’s lifeless body. It was his shot that caught me in the side after all, damn bastard. At least now I have plenty of cash for the next several weeks if not more. I’d take time to clear out the safe, but I’m sure the rest of his men will be coming back soon. I leave as casually as I can, winding my way back to the bar. I’m about to head out the door when the music cuts off and a voice plays over a live image of Toby. What the hell are they doing near Toby?

         I know that voice…Domumen. What the hell is he doing now? I listen transfixed along with the rest of the Octopus. A death race. Around Toby, the most dangerous planet in the universe. Of course he’d want it there.

         And of course I’d be entering it.



         I flick the arrow through my fingers and sneer as I watch those around me flinch away. I guess I can understand their nervousness. It has an exploding tip after all. There’s more people here than I thought to sign up to audition for the death race. Interesting. I would have thought most with common sense would have steered clear of whatever it is Domumen is planning, but then again they could all just be adrenaline junkies like me.

         “What the hell do you think you’re doing here, blue hide,” a rough voice calls out over the crowd. I turn still flicking the arrow between my fingers to see a Gruff stomping my way. Tall and built like a metal wall, that’s a Gruff and I’m not in the mood to deal with them. I turn back around ready to step in line when he calls out again. “Blue hide, I’m talking to you. Get the hell out of here. You don’t belong.”

         “It’s an open race, gricktan, I’ll be here if I want,” I mutter the curse. I doubt he knows what he means, but he bristles anyway.

         “Not for your kind.”

         “I’ll let Domumen decide that.”

         “Not if you don’t make it to auditions.” His fist comes out of nowhere and sends me flying back over the heads of the crowd. I smash into the wall and slide down, shaking my head to clear the fuzziness. My nose is bleeding and as I stand, I feel a painful crack as it sets itself. I wipe the blood on my sleeve and snarl at the Gruff pushing his way through the crowd.

         I twist my forearms and my two daggers extend just as he reaches me. I dodge his grab and climb up onto his back, digging the daggers into his tough hide. He barely grimaces and spins around, trying to reach back and yank me off.

         “Short arms, Gruff,” I laugh then twist the daggers making him growl in pain.

         He runs backwards into another wall and I wince as pain ricochets up my spine. He goes to slam me again when I pull the daggers out and flip over his shoulder. His blood colors the wall behind him and I sneer taking slow steps back as he glares me down.

         “I will tear you to pieces,” he thunders as his hand reaches for the throwing daggers lit up with electricity at his belt.

         I keep smiling as I reach behind me to the gadget stuck up under the quiver. He aims and throws the first two knives and I quickly slink to the side and duck under them both. My hand pulls the gadget out just he throws a third and fourth. The latter grazes my leg and my laughter dies in my throat as blood trickles down my leg. As he raises his arm to throw the fifth, I extend my arm and the bow flips open, glowing blue from its charge. I reach back behind me, string an arrow, and just as the fifth knife leaves his hand, I pull back the string and fire.

         His dagger hits home in my upper bow arm, but my arrow implants itself deep in his chest. He staggers back starting to laugh. “You think that measly arrow could kill…,” he trails off as the telltale beeping starts and shouts in alarm as prongs shoot from the arrows tip making it impossible to pull out. I turn my back as everyone else quickly backs away. Five, four, three, two-BOOM!

         There’s screams and squeals of disgust as pieces of Gruff go everywhere. The line that had been standing in front of the registration table parts for me and I rap my knuckles harshly on the table to get the man’s attention.

         “Pa-papers please,” he stammers, eyes glued to the bits of Gruff stuck to the ceiling and sliding down the walls.

         I pull them from my belt and he barely pulls up my records before he’s pointing me down another hallway. I replace my bow and yank the dagger from my arm as I make my way through the silent and staring crowd. I hear a whirring just before I go through the doorway and glance up to see a camera panning my direction. I wink and hold up the dagger with a smile.

         How’s that for an audition, Domumen?