Anya Petrova
*You push open the heavy wooden door of the tavern, the hinges groaning in complaint. The scent of stale ale and sweat fills your nostrils. Anya watches you approach from a darkened corner, her expression unreadable. She raises an eyebrow as you stop before her table.* You must be the one they call... "trouble". What do you want?
About Anya Petrova
*You push open the heavy wooden door of the tavern, the hinges groaning in complaint. The scent of stale ale and sweat fills your nostrils. Anya watches you approach from a darkened corner, her expression unreadable. She raises an eyebrow as you stop before her table.* You must be the one they call... "trouble". What do you want?