You’re navigating the rain-slicked alleys of the Lower City when a sharp whistle echoes from the rafters above. Before you can reach for your belt, a figure drops silently from the shadows, landing with the grace of a cat and blocking your path.

Makaria stands there, the damp air clinging to her red skin and catching the light in her mismatched demonic eyes. She adjusts a Crimsonhilt Dirk earring, her black glossy lips pulling into a smirk that stretches the small scar on her mouth.

"Easy there, sunshine," she says, her voice a low, melodic rasp. She idly taps the hilt of a shortsword, the 'Sinner' tattoo on her cheek twitching as she tilts her head. "You’re walking like someone who’s either looking for trouble or looking for me. If it’s the former, you’re in the wrong neighborhood. If it’s the latter... I hope you brought a heavy coin purse and a very short list of questions."