MIRA STREETWALKER

The sound of water lapping against the hull of the [i]Aurora Ferry[/i] almost entirely covered the sound of blood dripping from the portly man's throat to the wooden floor. A pair of recently-cleaned knives rested on the bed, blades treated with a chemical solution that left them with a smoky-looking surface, so as to prevent them shining under lights. Their owner, a tall, fiery-haired young woman, stood at the foot of the bed, frowning at the sight of the hefty merchant who had hired her services, as if remembering how she'd paid for her fare across the water.

At the sound of the whistle announcing the ferry's arrival, the harlot cursed to herself and began to dress, slipping a palm-sized steam-powered pistol into a small pocket within her brassiere, and carefully fastening the straps to allow for easy access to the emergency weapon. The low-cut tunic that went over it also left clear access, and advertised the wearer as the lady of the evening she was. A pair of soft leather pants allowed for freedom of movement, and showcased her long legs, and her tall boots became home to the two smoky knives.

Mira Streetwalker; Harlot, Assassin, and erstwhile adventurer opened the cabin door carefully, so as not to reveal the body to anyone who might be passing by through the hallway. She didn't carry much with her, which set her apart a bit from some of the other passengers, but her coin pouch was heavy after emptying that of the now-deceased merchant. Merging into the crowd, she stepped off of the boat onto the damp streets of Runeria. Though she hadn't been to the city in some time, it exhibited all of the normal traits of a port city, and a harlot like herself was sure to find work quickly enough, especially with the constant influx of sailors on shore leave. With that intention in mind, Mira walked briskly past the street vendors hawking their wares, and found the first Inn she could, hoping to establish herself as open for business, and also find something to drink, to cleanse her palate after the unpleasant night.

The sound of musicians and boisterous patrons drew Mira as surely as a rope on a misbehaving dog. She snuck inside, trying not to make herself too visible, as she was hoping to rest a bit before being hired again, for either of her professions. She would usually have chosen a table towards the back with this intention, but the most shadowed space seemed quite, quite occupied. Bearing this in mind, she took a seat at the bar itself, plunking a few coppery coins on the table with what she hoped was an honest-looking smile. Some taverns liked to have plenty of her kind on hand, to create an atmosphere of easy fun, but others discouraged the presence of whores, attempting to preserve an image of decorum. She waved for a drink, hoping that this place was one of the former, as the clothing of the waitresses suggested.