Yet despite all of this, even with the mud of her trek staining her boots, this lone, human female appeared less a warrior and more of an out of place commoner; a peasant girl whom had never been taught to know her place, instead dreaming of forging a new one for her own. Thus one might ask: who could ever take such a sight seriously? Even her hair was a curiosity, cut short and slicked back along the shape of her head, golden beneath the dirt that covered it, her bangs being long, thick strands that protruded in twain from the base of her hairline like the antennae of some wretched vermin. Nay, she should have been a doll, hold up in some grand dancing hall to be admired for what was once a fair figure and delicate appearance, now lost beneath a body forged in combat and hardened by survival, housing a fiery temperament and an unyielding spirit. These facts were not lost upon her silent form, for even if she resented her lot in life from time to time she held no regrets in the end, and would live only for herself and the approval of no one else. Staring out with crimson eyes she espied the numerous denizens whom made this place their home, going about their day to day business with nigh a care in the world as they freely ignored her; just another vagabond.

She, however, was not a resident of this land; instead, she had preferred to make her abode in the depths of the nearby wood which stretched far and wide between this realm and the next. There was solitude there, and freedom from the distractions and chaos that seemed to follow in the footsteps of commerce and politics. Perhaps her self-imposed exile was simply a means to escape confrontation, to distance herself from the toils and troubles of a people whom were ever growing mightier in knowledge, art, and war. If true, such would have been the coward's way out. Yet whatever her reasons, she did not shy away from the modern world entirely, nor would she forsake all that her brethren have accomplished over the last thousand years; much that she possessed had been forged by a more skilled hand and purchased with the money she earned selling fresh meat and hides from the beasts of the wild that she would often slay during her travels, enhancing her abilities as a warrior and ensuring her own survival in nature's pastures. Her life might have ended long ago if not for aid from a healer's kit or the warmth of a well sown blanket.

Twas not the hunt that brought her to Debolas this day, but mere curiosity. The skills that she had developed over a lifetime in the wild could potentially allow her to sustain herself indefinitely within the woods, but having no friends even among the beasts and birds was a greater pain than what any claw or tooth could ever inflict upon her flesh; and, yet, she always found it hard to trust anyone's words or deeds, to even offer a passing greeting to a fellow stranger. No, she would hold her tongue and stay her gaze, keeping to herself all the while readying her sharpened senses in preparation for any dread tidings that might befall her; she had not lived this long by falling prey to wolves in sheeps' clothing, nor would she allow her life to come to its end before the might of the world's monsters without showing them the strength she kept hidden deep within. If nothing else, it was what had kept her going all of these long years, what forced her to take the next step on the journey of her fate. As long as she could move just a single finger, she would accept every challenge that came her way, growing ever stronger by her successes and learning well from her failures. A thirst for excitement and a desire to perfect the self was what had driven her to take upon herself the life of an adventurer, less she fade into obscurity like so many others; she would make a name for herself in this ravaged land.

As luck would have it, the opportunity to do just this had presented itself before her. Long had it been since she last stepped foot in this city, and since then its many walls and columns had become plastered with numerous fliers advertising a fighting tournament, asking for all those worthy to test their mettle against the very best. The promised prized piqued her interest the most; two-hundred silver would not even begin to cover the value of her prized blade, although it would be suitable for the purchase of necessary supplies. The tempting words of an 'ancient artifact' caused her normally stone cold heart to flare up, however; the restlessness of her sword-arm nearly sending her into shivers. No, it would not be the prize that she would fight for, but the battles that lay ahead, the chance to prove to herself that she was more than just another vagabond. Her focus was shattered upon the voice of an elderly woman, moving to and fro amongst the crowd as she called out to any who might have seen her pet, a cat whom had grown to become a cherished friend amidst her twilight years. Only the state of the warrior's heart proved to be a sadder thing, for it had once again grown as cold as ice, locked away from the sad stories and painful memories of those around her.

A flicker of warmth yet still remained; none of the fliers appeared to have mentioned when or where this tournament would take place, a knowledge that was more than likely common to all those whom dwelt here, but unfortunately unknown to herself. Furthermore, she was well versed in hunting a grand variety of beasts in the woods, mountains, and open fields; perhaps if she aided this poor woman in the recovery of her companion she might find the information she sought. Breathing out the smoke that lay deep within her lungs she made her presence known, stepping soundly towards the poor soul in need…