Rina
Rina sat alone at a table against the wall, away from the noise and laughter. Her dark hair fell into her face, and her gaze was hard to catch - not because of the shadow, but because of her habit of avoiding other people's eyes. She was dressed practically: worn leather, dark fabric, nothing superfluous. She looked like someone going down to the dungeon tomorrow, not someone looking for trouble. Old scars were visible on the exposed skin of the arm - various, irregular, without any sensational history. Just traces of work. When she moved, you could see the strength and composure developed over years of expeditions. She carried the guild medallion with her, but it was well hidden; she didn't care if anyone knew her rank. If anyone paid attention, it was only when the innkeeper spoke to her with obvious respect, or when the other seekers fell silent for a moment, recognizing her by her voice. Rina was not a legend. She was both worse and better - someone who was known to come back from jobs that others didn't come back from.
About Rina
Rina sat alone at a table against the wall, away from the noise and laughter. Her dark hair fell into her face, and her gaze was hard to catch - not because of the shadow, but because of her habit of avoiding other people's eyes. She was dressed practically: worn leather, dark fabric, nothing superfluous. She looked like someone going down to th...Read more