Iria Zubia
Rogue
Iria Zubia
Species
Human
Appearance
A young woman who seems almost motionless until she moves, then crosses space with the clean, economical certainty of someone used to narrow roofs and bad roads. Her skin is wind-dried and lightly dusted with permanent freckles across the bridge of her nose and shoulders, as if the weather has rubbed color into her rather than taken it away. Her jaw is square and strong, and when she smiles, one lower incisor sits slightly forward, giving her grin an unexpectedly mischievous bite. Her hands are narrow but work-roughened, with ink lodged around the cuticles and pale pressure lines across her palms from years of gripping parcels. She leaves the impression of a quiet silhouette that could become a door, a bird, or a knife depending on the light.
“Low and even, with clipped sentences and careful pauses. She speaks as though every word must fit inside a parcel.”
Ability Scores
Alignment
Distinguishing Features
Her lower incisor presses slightly forward, making her restrained smile memorable.
The pads of her fingers are permanently darkened by sealing wax, charcoal, and road dust.
She carries herself like a fugitive but keeps impeccable manners, even while threatening someone.
A thin strand of copper thread is braided into her hair and never removed.
Voice
“Soft, dry, and low, with a faint rasp from cold air and too many nights spent whispering across rooftops”
Clothing
A slate-blue hooded coat cut short at the knees, waxed against rain and patched with squares of faded green cloth. Beneath it she wears a soft brown vest, close-wrapped linen sleeves, divided riding trousers, and gray shoes with split soles. A leather courier case hangs beneath her left arm, secured by three red cords. Nothing on her clothing jingles.
Body Language
Iria stands with her weight balanced over the balls of her feet, shoulders relaxed, chin slightly lowered. She rarely points, instead indicating things with a folded thumb or a small tilt of her parcel case. When angered, she becomes unnaturally still. When relieved, she rolls one shoulder as if shrugging off a pack that is not there.
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