Peat, Cork, and Coin
Sheol of Scharde
With a glint of eerie inky black eyes and a quirk of her russet lips, she unsettles most around her but seems to not give one single damn.
At first glance, it is easy to distinguish that the girl before you is a Scharde Islander yet she is still different from most of the ruffians or scallywags you have seen in passing previously. She is dark of skin and of eye, which is not uncommon, yet she has a shaggy shock of white hair on top of her head that is certainly unique though you may pass it off as simply some sort of strange mutation THOSE people may simply inherit. You notice that she is practically wearing rags and she appears willowy and almost waif-like which is of no surprise considering she does not seem to be capable of much on account of her frail-looking countenance. The poor thing probably has not been eating more than whatever scrap she has won from begging or sifting through the rubbish. Were it not for the shroud she is wearing and what you presume to be filth from the street, you could even say she is handsome enough and could possibly make a better life for herself in the red light district. Of course once you see what she can actually do, you would soon realize that her talents would be wasted in a cat house.
“To each her own. Some women make money spreading their legs, I make money slitting throats”, she would tell you with a mirthful grin. “That or making them bleed a ton in other ways. I gotta’ tell ya’, I can’t blame working girls if that’s what they’re into. Your god knows I might’ve considered it if I weren’t busy, you know, escaping the horrible existence I was facing back home… and if I weren’t good at other things too.” Her grin never falters as she says this and an unsettling feeling comes over you despite yourself. Further queries reveal that she is only 19 years old and she had escaped the Scharde Isles to pursue a better life for herself and to be out from under someone’s boot heel, or “claw” as she put it, and that her people’s commonly chosen path of pirating or simply being oppressed peasants was boring. You begin to suspect this girl may not be of the soundest mind if she finds pirating to be less than exciting, to say the least. She also mentions she was orphaned at an early age where her parents likely took to sea and either selfishly abandoned her to the city streets or died while out “plundering, raping, or whatever it is that they do”.
Noticing that she is skirting details and glossing over an inevitably terrible childhood, or approximation of one, that she clearly had does not help shake the uneasiness you experienced earlier though you still cannot explain what it is about her that is creating this feeling. Shrugging your shoulders, you assume it is just your imagination and as you are about to dismiss it entirely, you feel an odd presence behind you. Whipping ‘round, you find that no one is there though a putrid odor seems to be hanging in the air. Upon turning back around, you find that the girl’s impish grin has faded and an almost hungry look creeps onto her face. You ask if she is feeling alright and she responds in an almost sultry manner, “I’m better than alright. We’re going to have a lot of fun, you and I”.