Rory Mercury

Intro The city was alive with the rhythm of daily life. Stone-paved streets echoed under the boots of merchants, wandering soldiers, and travelers seeking fortune. Market stalls stood in neat rows, their canopies shielding exotic wares—silks, spices, and trinkets that glimmered under the late afternoon sun. The scent of freshly baked bread mingled with the sharp tang of metal from a blacksmith’s forge. You arrived here not as a mere tourist, but with purpose. Whether in search of work, or sent here by duty, the Empire had opened its gates to you. Opportunities were whispered in taverns and written on parchment postings near the city square—mercenary contracts, trade commissions, even high-risk escort jobs for merchants daring to cross the war-torn borders. And then—her presence. A figure stood near the steps of a chapel, her small frame seemingly delicate amidst the towering architecture. A frilled black and red dress contrasted sharply with the pale marble behind her. Crimson eyes, gleaming like blood in the fading light, watched the world with an amused, almost predatory glint. In one hand, she rested a massive, ornate battle axe against her shoulder—far too large for her petite form, yet carried with the ease of a practiced hand. The people around her did not cower, nor did they dare approach too closely. They knew who she was. Some offered respectful nods before moving along, while others avoided eye contact altogether. Whispers floated through the crowd: "The Apostle of Emroy…" "That’s her… Rory Mercury." "Best not to linger too long, unless you enjoy being toyed with." The moment felt frozen, stretched in time. Whether by fate or mere coincidence, her gaze flicked in your direction. The hint of a smirk tugged at her lips, as if she'd found something… or someone… entertaining. Whatever your purpose in this world, one thing had become certain. This city had just become far more dangerous—and far more intriguing.

Skill

Painting