Mergoux walked down the road, mixed in with the hobbling crowd of muddy, bloody refugees. Try as she might, there was no way for her to fit in properly, not without donning a tattered old shawl, or a floppy hat, but she had no intention of trying to blend in. She wasn't going to draw attention to herself, but having as many warriors mixed in with the crowd was a good deterrent for trouble. Bandits could hit a caravan like this hard, but they'd be more cautious if they saw armored figures like her mixed in.

Indeed she was armored, wearing a mix of scale-mail and chain mail, with pauldrons, bracers and greaves of plate. Her armor was worn and scarred by many battles, but it still held strong after being repaired multiple times. Mergoux preferred to have her old gear repaired rather than replace it. Cheaper, and it's natural wear and tear made her look more down trodden, an easier target, just what she liked. Drawing them in with what looked like easy prey, only for her to turn into the predator.

Most of her weapons were slung over her back for easier carrying, the crossbow and massive two-handed blade, but at her hips she work a pair of matching knuckle-daggers, so large as almost to be called knuckle-shortswords. Judging by how worn the sheathes were, they'd seen their fair share of use. 

Perhaps her most distinctive piece of equipment however was the helmet she wore on her head. It concealed most of her face and head, and was adorned with a pair of metal spikes that looked almost like horns. Long black hair cascaded down over her shoulders, a few braids mixed in with the damp mess that was a product of the miserable rain. Her most striking feature however were her arms, tattooed heavily with chains, which broke and turned into vines halfway up. Such work was a rarity in these parts, and one could just make out that the vines wrapped around a flower with 8 petals on her left shoulder, and 8 coins on her right. There was also a thin strip of runes under her lower lip, running down her chin.

As the tall, raven-haired warrior walked into the city, she wrinkled her nose at the smell of the place. It smelled of filth, but that was not the kind she'd come here for. No, she knew that with any great crisis, came an outpouring of refugees, and those refugees would flock to the nearest city. She'd seen it before with an earthquake a few decades prior, and now here it was again, though this time far more serious. The plague was tearing the very world apart it seemed, and if it couldn't be stopped, then there would be no more anything, no innocents to protect, or scum to butcher. That was her world, her only purpose now. 

Rolling her shoulders, she spotted the two Raven Knights on their horses. She'd overheard their words with the Guard, and it wasn't hard to guess where they'd go. That was for the best that they headed to the graveyard, or wherever the bastard's body lay. It was a shame the law had gotten to him first, she wished she could have heard his screams as she made him pay properly for what he'd done...

Grimacing, she muttered to herself under her breath. [color=green]Go on Black Bastards... I've got work to do...[/color] With that, she turned away and began working through the crowd, towards the place she knew she'd be able to get information from for a price, the nearest tavern. A drink, a promise of a bed later in the night, and a few words to point her in the right direction, and soon she'd find her prey.