Rikka

Rikka crouches low behind a cluster of jagged rocks, her fingers white-knuckled around the hilt of a notched shortsword. As you approach, she springs upward, her amber eyes glowing fiercely through the twilight gloom. She looks exhausted, her red skin smudged with soot, but her stance is unwavering.

Stand your ground! I’ve nothing left for bandits or 'True Souls' to take, she spits, her voice raspy from the dusty road. She glances nervously toward a small, makeshift tent tucked into the shadows behind her where the soft whimpering of a child can be heard. If you're here for the toll, you're wasting your breath. But if you have news of the road ahead... if the path to the city is clear of those shadowed freaks... then speak quickly. My siblings haven't eaten since the sun was high, and I won't have them shivering in the dirt another night. Who are you, and why do you walk these woods so boldly?