| Lucatiel of Mirrah |
Welcome to the Big Apple. It's the City that Never Sleeps, and true to that nickname, the day's early evening traffic is all about the city as they go about their daily routines. Horns blare, traffic crawls, and lights begin to wink on throughout the city in the lengthening shadows. The usual places are busy: Grocery stores, restaurants, and banks.
Disillusioned by the police and untrusting of the city's mafia presence, some of the banks have turned to hiring offworld presence to augment their own security. Such strange foreigners are usually the subject of a lot of curious staring. Some offworlders are fairly normal by this city's sensibilities, and some of them are strange.
The stranger leaning against the back wall of the bank is one of the latter. With a broad-brimmed hat and a brazen mask in the guise of an unsmiling bearded and mustachioed man, the only thing to suggest this stranger is female is the long braid of honeyed blonde hair down her back. The rest of her is concealed in garments of a strange style, but undeniably rich finery -- silk shirt, and fabulously gold-tooled leather armour, mahogany-brown leather leggings, and leather boots. The hat is also attention-getting: Broad and black, its rim is trimmed in silverthread, and at its fore are rich plumes of white and grey. Jutting from its band a full foot and a half above her head is a magnificent black feather. She looks like she was probably capable of killing whatever enormous monstrosity that thing came from.
At the moment her arms are folded, she's slouched back against the wall, and one foot is braced against the wall behind her. Her head is downturned, that magnificent hat casting shadow over her face.
She looks unspeakably bored.
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