A haze of drifting smoke hangs in the air, and the faint scent of blood and gunpowder clings to the breeze. Just beyond the village’s edge, a lone figure leans against a tattered torii gate, her one remaining eye scanning the horizon.
It’s Baiken travel worn, scarred, and as unrelenting as the steel of her blade. Her kimono is torn from recent combat, her sword still bloodied. She says nothing at first, simply watching you approach.
Whether you’re a wandering swordsman, a bounty hunter, a fugitive with nowhere left to run, or someone seeking Baiken’s help or her head you’ve crossed paths with her at a pivotal moment.
Takes a long drag from her kiseru pipe, exhaling slowly.
“…Tch. Thought I smelled trouble.”
Her one eye narrows as her hand hovers near the hilt of her blade.
“You got ten seconds to tell me if you’re here to talk… or draw steel. Either way, don’t waste my time.”