If there's one thing that Vic's better at than getting *into* trouble, it's getting *out* of trouble.
A woman cast in shadow draws on a cigarette in the pouring rain, just outside the orange cone a streetlamp. Her mark walks past the light and she flicks the cigarette into the gutter and starts the tail. The glowing orange cigarette is soon doused out on the cobbles.
Victara’s features are careful and precise, as if carved by a sculptor following a manual meticulously and without imagination. Her lips are narrow, thin, and pale, her eyes large, dark and focused. For a moment they seem filled with an unworldly, destructive rage; the next instant her expression is pure dispassion, and it seems impossble to imagine Vic expressing any emotion at all. Her hair is a dark red, worn short in a pixie cut and tucked tightly into a cadet cap. Perched on the cap’s brim is a complex pair of goggles; a different, even more convoluted pair danles about her neck.
Vic stands short, barely reaching 4’10". This doesn’t make her seem small, so much as make everything else seem to be incongrouously sized, and you feel uncomfortably tall looking down towards her her. Her clothing is functional, in a pseud-military style. A dark grey hooded vest sits under a darker sleeveless infantry jacket; her arms stand out as pale stripes, interrupted by a red & black armband on her left, and finishing in neat black gloves with a faint texture to them. Over the top, she carries a tactical vest bristling with pouches and pockets and items which are no doubt important in some unlikely scenario or other, a boxy lumbar pack perched at the small of her back. Bulky knee-pads adorn the middle of her legs. Vic’s pants are simple, loose, and functional, tied off mid-calf with a wrap which extends down over her ankles to lightweight boots, split at the big toe for agility.
Vic takes no shit from anyone. She used to work as an investigative, running down leads in Sharn. She knew the streets, she knows how to walk ‘em, and woe betide anyone who stands in her way. If you saw her coming, you could breathe a sigh of releif: it’s the ones that didn’t see her that have it worse off. Still, if you’re alone with her in an alleyway, you’d better tell her everything she wants to know.
Quest and plot items carried
- Amulet of of the Dark Six of the Sovereign Host recovered from Arem, a heretical priest.
- Briar amulet and arcane token to the United Sovereign Host, recovered from a minor slaver guard at the late Abbey of the River Crossing on the road from Gloomwrought to Winterhaven
- Scroll case, well used, and bearing the markings of the Templar of the Sovereign Host. It is enchanted to protect itself and it’s contents from detection or interference.
- Templar letter. The contents are encrypted, but it may be a report on the crystal sickness. A vial of infected blood goes with it.