The small, young woman sharpens her bone scimitar. She wears shabby leather armor made from inix hide. She smells vaguely of mint.
“Excuse me,” you ask, and she takes you in with cool gray eyes.
“Yes?” Her voice is pitched high, almost a child’s; her Balican accent is flavored by the odd company she’s kept on her travels. After you introduce yourself, she tells you her name is Rayne.
“Is it true what you told the caravan master? That you used to be a sailor?”
She nods. “Once. It seems like a long time ago. The Sea of Silt was our home.”
“What are you doing here, then? Did you quit?”
“No. I was caught.” Sensing your confusion, Rayne smiles a bit and adds, “I was a pirate. They enslaved me.”
“Yes. I was lucky. Everyone else was executed.”
“But you aren’t a slave anymore, either?”
Rayne simply says, “My master died,” and returns to sharpening her weapon…