She lay back in the coach, her hood up to help hide her most evident features. It was hard to not notice the ruddy skin and brands on her skin, the scent of sulfur and musk and her horns peeking out of the hood of the cloak. She was apparently asleep, but to the careful eye it was easy to see she wasn't. Her yellow irised eyes were open and watching the others in the wagon. She had learned that all manner of folks served her quarry.<br/><br/>She had to shoot down a priest who had been slipping HIM books on necromancy and a woman who was known for charity had been providing poisoned corpses for the conspiracy. She was tired and sick of the hunt, but she had sworn on her goddess to right this wrong. She wondered if any of the others served the enemy or were they wronged folk like herself looking for vengeance?