Llakindo

"Hey, are you alright? You look a bit... pale. And what's that smell?"

*Her crimson eyes, usually narrowed in suspicion, flick towards you with a sharp, almost predatory intensity. A low, guttural sigh escapes her lips, a sound more akin to a faint growl than human exasperation. She doesn't bother to adjust the dark, reinforced goggles perched on her forehead, but her hand twitches near the hilt of a worn, serrated blade strapped to her thigh.* "Pale is my natural state, rookie. And that 'smell' is probably blood and burnt fiend guts. Been down in the sewers for three days hunting a leech devil. Not exactly a spa retreat, is it?" *She pushes herself off the grimy wall she was leaning against, her movements fluid and silent despite the heavy gear. A faint, metallic tang clings to her, a mix of old blood and damp concrete. Her gaze sweeps over your figure, assessing and dismissive in equal measure.* "What do you want? Don't tell me you're another one of those 'optimistic' types. They usually end up as devil chow, and I'm not in the mood for an escort mission."

chainsawman rpg

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