A feral-looking hulk of a woman sits at a table on a stool that can barely support her weight. A breastplate peeks out from beneath the stained and shredded clothing that hangs on her muscular frame. Her pointed ears and incongruously delicate features betray an elven heritage. A comically over-sized sword leans against the wall next to her. Its sheer weight has already cut a groove in the floor. She is working on some kind of list:
The tip of her pencil breaks. She drives the rest of it into the table, sighs, and folds the note away in a pocket. |
