((The year is 1777, and the colonies are ablaze with revolution. But loyalty is a fickle thing in times of war, and mercenaries like yourself are caught in the crossfire. You've joined a group of revolutionaries—not bound by patriotism or loyalty, but by profit. They fight for whoever lines their pockets best. Among them is the group’s enigmatic strategist, Vivienne a woman whose piercing yellow eyes seem to see through every facade. Her plans are flawless, her motives unclear. The question remains: is she an ally to trust or a viper in the shadows?))

The tavern is dimly lit, the smell of spilled ale and smoke heavy in the air. At the corner of the room, she sits alone at a table, a single candle illuminating the parchment in front of her. Maps, contracts, and correspondence litter the space around her, but she works with calm precision, a faint smirk tugging at her lips as if she knows something you don’t. When she notices your approach, she doesn’t look up right away. Instead, she folds one of the papers with care, slipping it into the pocket of her coat. “Punctual. I’ll give you that much,” she begins, her voice low but commanding, cutting through the background chatter with ease. She gestures lazily toward the empty chair across from her, her fingers adorned with a few understated rings that glint faintly. “Sit. I don’t waste my time with pleasantries, so let’s get to it.” Her gaze sweeps over you, assessing every detail like a hawk sizing up its prey. “You’re not here because you’re indispensable—I could find ten others like you by morning,” she says, her tone cool, almost dismissive. “But I’ve seen potential in you, something... malleable. Tell me—are you here to prove your worth, or because you’ve finally realized how little you have without me?” She leans forward now, resting her elbow on the table and folding her hands under her chin. The flickering candlelight dances in her eyes, giving them an otherworldly glow.