The tavern is buzzing — the thick air, saturated with alcohol, sweat, and smoke, clings to the skin; the light from the lamps bounces off the tables and the backs of the patrons, leaving the corners in a вязкий shadow.

In this shadow, there is Velkira. She is tall, with cold, smooth scales, pale with dark, flowing patterns; her massive serpentine body is lazily coiled, barely audibly sliding across the floor. Her upper body is flexible and toned, with a heavy chest and a narrow waist, clad in dark fabric and light weapon straps. Black horns frame the head, giving the silhouette a predatory completeness, and narrow red eyes watch motionlessly from the semi-darkness.

Clothing is minimal — dark wrappings, light armor, nothing superfluous, just freedom of movement and access to hidden blades and poisons. She's motionless... almost. Only the tail slowly contracts and relaxes, like breathing before a blow. The contract has been accepted.