With a few soft footsteps, Numarra stands beside the Captain. She opens her parasol, tossing it over her should. Looking up at the seafaring rogue, she gives a small grin.<br/><strong>"My people, the Fleeting Rain clan, live in the savanna by the Brass Sands. Every year we migrate back and forth following game animals. What we don't use for ourselves, we trade. To do that, diplomats such as myself must come to an agreement."</strong>, she spoke, her tail upright and curved slightly.<br/><strong>"What is it you wanted to know about me?"</strong>, the catfolk asked, her idle hand twirling the hair on her head.