Ebi Bakirra
Shade Stitcher, Path of the Black Hem
Ebi Bakirra
Species
Drow
Appearance
Ebi is a narrow-shouldered young drow with the wiry strength of someone who learned to run before she learned to trust. Her obsidian skin has a faint blue undertone that becomes almost violet under lamplight. Her white hair is cut unevenly at jaw length, with one side hacked close using a stolen kitchen knife. She moves with a low, economical stride, rarely lifting her feet high enough to scuff the ground. Her hands are quick and constantly busy, measuring distances with thumb and forefinger or tracing invisible seams in nearby shadows. The unexpected thing about her is her softness: her face is fine-boned and almost delicate, with round cheeks and a small, thoughtful mouth that make her look younger than nineteen until she smiles without warmth.
“Her speech is clipped, controlled, and precise, with a faint rasp on sibilants. She pauses before names, as if weighing their value.”
Ability Scores
Alignment
Distinguishing Features
A pale scar crosses her lower lip and disappears beneath her chin, left by the first bandit she ever caught.
The shadow of her left hand sometimes shows a thin extra finger when her emotions spike.
Her right ear is pierced with three small iron rings, each taken from a captured bounty.
She carries a red ankle cord that belonged to her mother, though she claims it came from a dead client.
Her fingertips are permanently darkened as if stained with ink.
Voice
“Low and husky, with a dry warmth that appears only when she is amused. Her words land softly but leave the impression of a blade being tested against a thumbnail.”
Clothing
A close-fitted charcoal coat made from mismatched scraps of curtain velvet and old mourning clothes, reinforced with thin leather panels beneath the ribs. Her sleeves are split at the wrists to give her fingers freedom. She wears soft-soled boots, a red cord around her left ankle, and a belt crowded with spools, hooks, wax, folded warrants, and coin pouches.
Body Language
Ebi keeps her weight on the balls of her feet and angles her body toward the nearest exit. She rarely gestures broadly. Instead, she taps two fingers together as if closing a seam, tilts her head when evaluating a lie, and goes perfectly still when genuinely angry. In a fight, her posture becomes almost serene, with her shoulders low and her hands moving like a seamstress guiding cloth.
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