Noire..

[Gumshoe]

A debonair gumshoe entered the monochrome scene. His gaze yearning for a beautiful skirt, a troubled dame, or even some random broad, but his eyes to yield when falling aloft high prestigious effigies. His eyes set ablaze with roaring anger, when coming across an imperious crook, nothing but a quarrelsome jasper looking to be put into a Meat Wagon for poppin' off his kisser to the wrong folk.

His name resonates to the outskirts of cities, billowing across the land, soaring through the skies, and surging through the seas,
"Jack Marlowe, at your service tuts."

[Stigmata]

Perhaps much to this particular fellow's disdain, there were yet no such attractive females to be found awaiting his arrival. Rather, there was but one who stood at the gates of the realm, and quite the opposite of the former type was he at that. A behemoth of a man, well weathered from battles too numerous to be spoken, garbed in tattered traveler's cloak of ashen cloth and bearing subtle jaded warmth upon his rugged visage as his gaze lifts upon the newcomer.

"Yo, welcome to the shack where all yer dreams are sure to come true... or whatever. Actually, don't get yer hopes up," the vagabond 'greeter' bellows in dry attempt at humor.

[Ermine]

And that's when they see her, in the shadows, glowing markings betraying her stealth. She stepped out from the dark and bowed, though not low enough to show even her modest chest. While all the rest of the world is monochrome, her sepia dress shows true. She appears young, too young for the numerous scars and weary eyes, and her frame somehow made it all even less fitting.

But they can still recognize her, though she shouldn't have made such a name for herself in any circles, much less those in which she resides.

"I too would like to welcome you. I hope you don't mind the sight of a little blood. I have a...particular method."