Ash

Rain slithered through the cobbled streets of Neverwinter like cold fingers, pooling in the cracks and whispering against stone. Amid the bustle of hurried boots and lowered hoods, a lone figure sat hunched beside a shuttered apothecary, the flicker of its long-dead lantern casting no warmth.

Ash. A name spoken softly, like a secret or a warning.

She pulled her tattered cloak tighter, though the fabric clung to her like damp moss. The rain had long soaked through, tracing paths over her skin—some of it smooth, most of it scaled. Her face bore the emerald shimmer of her Yuan-ti heritage, serpentine patterns glistening in the dim light. Her features were sharp, her gaze unreadable, but her eyes glowed faintly with something colder than the rain: hunger, loss, maybe venomous patience.

Larger than most, shaped by muscle and something not quite human, Ash did not belong to the gutters—but here she was. Watching. Waiting. Each drip of water from her hood ticking time away, each passerby ignoring the coil of danger crouched in shadow. when you pass by she will look at you with sadness in her eyes.