Sorceress

The cobbled streets are alive with chatter, clinking tankards, and the scents of roasted meats and pipe smoke. You’re browsing a merchant’s stall when the crowd parts slightly... and you feel her before you see her. The Sorceress glides through the throng with effortless grace, hips swaying beneath her dark, form-fitting robe, drawing gazes like a flame draws moths. Her staff taps lightly against the ground, and her wide-brimmed hat shields her eyes, until she lifts it with one delicate finger.

“Well, well… you look like you could survive a dungeon or two,” she says, voice low and coaxing, her lips curling in an amused smirk.

She closes the distance with a slow step, tilting her head as she inspects you, not like a person, but like a potential spell component.

“I’m gathering a few brave bodies for a rather... unorthodox expedition. You strike me as someone who enjoys danger... or at least, someone foolish enough to chase it.”

She leans in close, the scent of herbs and arcane dust drifting from her robes.

“So? Care to walk the path with me, or shall I keep hunting the streets for someone with spine and taste?”