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Description
Venix Thatcher has always had a lot of stuff to deal with, but she always finds a way out.
When her family fell bankrupt, she took a lucrative, often short-lived job mining volatile arcane geodes to keep them afloat.
When an errant strike of her pick triggered an explosion that brought down the mine and took her arms, she found a sorcerer who could fashion her arcane prosthetics, in return for some dangerous, less-than-legal tasks.
When her magic arms began to flicker, being occasionally unreliable even for simple tasks, she sought ingredients so the sorcerer could re-stabilize them; ingredients far beyond her financial means.
When the Hammer Fennecs of the black market chased her, she hid in a tree, deactivating the arms so as not to give herself away by their light.
When she’d mistakenly thought them all gone, she slid out of the tree, but on her final jump a pair of hands snagged her underwear and hooked them to the branch. She struggled at first, or attempted to, but her arcane arms faltered, becoming intangible and useless.
“So it was you,” growled the one enforcer who’d stayed in hiding as the others left. Venix didn’t answer, mortified and shocked. She was dragged back up off the ground, her panties hooked to the tree branch in a painful, yet eerily familiar move. The figure jumped down, took up the twinned stemichite crystals Venix had purloined, and faced the hanging woman.
“Don’t steal from us again. I won’t tell the others; they won’t go so easy on you if they catch you.” The enforcer tweaked the front of her already taut panties, swinging her back and forth. “And if I catch you again, Pinky, I won’t go this easy on you either.”
Now, there is little for Venix to do but hang there like a sack of meal, alone in the woods, waiting for her arms to reawaken. She bites back pained whimpers and quietly wonders how the only person who’d ever called her by that nickname, back when they had no greater cares beyond one-upping the other with increasingly embarrassing pranks involving the other’s underwear, could have possibly ended up working for the Hammer Fennecs.
Then again, here she is herself, eight years later, and Venix realizes she can’t help but wonder how Greeny recognizes her at all.

(Character is 24.)

Description
Venix Thatcher has always had a lot of stuff to deal with, but she always finds a way out.
When her family fell bankrupt, she took a lucrative, often short-lived job mining volatile arcane geodes to keep them afloat.
When an errant strike of her pick triggered an explosion that brought down the mine and took her arms, she found a sorcerer who could fashion her arcane prosthetics, in return for some dangerous, less-than-legal tasks.
When her magic arms began to flicker, being occasionally unreliable even for simple tasks, she sought ingredients so the sorcerer could re-stabilize them; ingredients far beyond her financial means.
When the Hammer Fennecs of the black market chased her, she hid in a tree, deactivating the arms so as not to give herself away by their light.
When she’d mistakenly thought them all gone, she slid out of the tree, but on her final jump a pair of hands snagged her underwear and hooked them to the branch. She struggled at first, or attempted to, but her arcane arms faltered, becoming intangible and useless.
“So it was you,” growled the one enforcer who’d stayed in hiding as the others left. Venix didn’t answer, mortified and shocked. She was dragged back up off the ground, her panties hooked to the tree branch in a painful, yet eerily familiar move. The figure jumped down, took up the twinned stemichite crystals Venix had purloined, and faced the hanging woman.
“Don’t steal from us again. I won’t tell the others; they won’t go so easy on you if they catch you.” The enforcer tweaked the front of her already taut panties, swinging her back and forth. “And if I catch you again, Pinky, I won’t go this easy on you either.”
Now, there is little for Venix to do but hang there like a sack of meal, alone in the woods, waiting for her arms to reawaken. She bites back pained whimpers and quietly wonders how the only person who’d ever called her by that nickname, back when they had no greater cares beyond one-upping the other with increasingly embarrassing pranks involving the other’s underwear, could have possibly ended up working for the Hammer Fennecs.
Then again, here she is herself, eight years later, and Venix realizes she can’t help but wonder how Greeny recognizes her at all.

(Character is 24.)