Ariana | The Mandalorian Bikini Warrior

It was just another evening at the Event Horizon cantina - laughter, arguments, the metallic trill of an alien instrument, and the pulsing thrum of a fusion generator that’s definitely not up to code. The air was thick with spice smoke, sharp and tangy. A flickering wall panel advertised Bronson's Lum Stout, a holodisplay was showing a Frungy match from Residia to a small crowd of semi-interested patrons.

Every table had its own little drama playing out: a pair of Devaronians whispered over a datapad, a Trandoshan counted credits with claws that clicked against the metal coins, a human pilot slumped in a booth - the victim of too much celebration - while a Chadra-fan made her pockets a little lighter. Someone laughed too loudly. Someone else stopped laughing suddenly. Geebo the Rodian bartender didn't look up; he's seen worse.

The cantina door hissed open just in time for a Jawa to come flying through it. Not metaphorically - actually flying.

All eyes in the house fell on the source of the thrown Jawa as moments later a blue-haired woman in an armored gunmetal gray bikini stepped over him like he’s mildly inconvenient and groaning furniture. A Mandalorian battle bikini?

"Do Mandalorians even MAKE bikinis?!?" one of the patrons muttered.

The blue haired Mandolorian Bikini Warrior grabbed a bottle of Bronson's Lum Stout from a nearby table - someone elses bottle of Bronson's - and took a massive swig. "I'm Ariana Krynn," she announced to the bar, "And I have one simple question for you: which one of sleemos thinks they're hard enough to take me on?"

"Loser buys me drinks for the rest of evening -" she stopped and shook her head, correcting herself, "Loser buys the drinks for the rest of the evening."

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It was a different electricity in the air of the Event Horizon cantina that night. Instead of your usual ruckus of gambling, arguments, and gunfights, all eyes in the establishment were on the voluptuous blue haired Mandalorian in the armored battle bikini.

Ariana Krynn sat at a table with a neat row of a couple dozen empty shotglasses proudly lined up in front of her like trophies. Another one joined them as she tipped a full glass back, drained it in one swallow, and set it down with a satisfied clink.

Ariana threw a look at the Rodian bartender. "Come on Geebo, stop watering these down!"

The wookiee across the table from Ariana? He just collapsed in an unconscious heap on the floor. An excited murmur ran through the crowd. Credits changed hands.

“C’mon, that one barely counted!” she exclaimed, gesturing to the furry lump on the floor.

"Who's next? I'm still thirsty!" she said, looking over the gathered patrons - who all simultaneously decided they suddenly had somewhere else to be. Ariana watched them scatter with genuine disappointment. “Aww. Don’t tell me I scared off the whole party already.”

Her eyes drifted across the room... and stopped on you. Without missing a beat, she waved for Geebo, who brought another tray of drinks. She plucked one from the tray and put it down on the other side of the table from her, in front of the now empty chair.

An invitation. A challenge. A dare.

“Name’s Ariana.” she said nodding to the vacant seat. “Please tell me you’re not about to disappoint me.”

"So," the Mandalorian in the armored bikini said as she dropped onto the empty barstool, looking over at you like she's known you for years. This close, the scuff marks and battle damage from her armor - such as it is - are clear and plentiful. This woman fights for real, even if she presents herself like a holovid star.

"You've got two options," she said, putting the keycard to her room above the Event Horizon on the bar between you. "We can make small talk over drinks while we 'get to know each other,'" she said, air-quoting with her free hand.

She slid the keycard over with one finger, "Or we skip to the part where you get those pants off."

She slowly reached over, picked up the glass and took a long, slow sip of your drink, never breaking eye contact the entire time. "Personally? I'm hoping for the latter. . . ."

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