"Oh boy, here I go killing again."
Age: 19
Height: 5’0"
Weight: 110 lbs
Build: Slender
Hair: Red
Eyes: Light Blue
Notable features: Lopsided glasses. Gang tattoos which travel across her chest and down her right arm. Her right hand has been cybernetically altered into a specialty haptic device which increases her accuracy with a paired rifle.
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Ianthe grew up in a family of criminals on Nar Shaddaa. Her father, uncle, mother, grandmother, and cousins were all deeply involved in the business of the Hutt Cartel. Some were enforcers, others were spice smugglers or dealers. Rumor was that some manner of insurmountable debt generations ago had indentured her entire family line to the Hutts, although the reality was much less dramatic. Criminal life suited them, and none thought to leave.
Ianthe herself was a crack shot with a blaster from an early age, and her family would not allow such talent to go to waste. The girl was putting blaster bolts through brain stems by the time she was eight, using a specially modified carbine blaster rifle her cousin had used at her age. By the time she was twelve, she’d been shot five times and killed at least twenty people.
And yet, Ianthe dreamed of a simpler life. There was no romance to being an assassin; it was all business. She grew tired of offing debtors and petty thieves when she could be herding nerfs, or farming moisture. Easy. Clean. And if she got bored, she could always take the odd job or two, but only for more dangerous targets.
Though she resolved to leave, the Cartel had its hooks deep in Ianthe. She’d been instilled with a love for high risk situations and altered states which led her to burn through credits faster than she could make them. In debt up to her eyeballs, Ianthe resolved to take the riskiest job of her career: to kill a notorious Bothan crime-lord who was growing too big for his britches. He had fortified several floors of the tower he called home, and populated his refuge with hired guards.
No one knows quite what transpired in that tower, only that Ianthe emerged after thirty hours covered in blood and wounds, paid her debts, and left Nar Shaddaa without a word to anyone.
Her destination? The mid-rim world of Viscara, a Czerka-controlled industrial colony. Although she’s nervous about leaving home for the first time, she is absolutely certain that she’s picked perhaps the one world in the galaxy where she can live a quiet life, and nothing interesting will ever happen.
