ylz

Rain slicks the cobblestones of the Ironscale Bazaar as ylz leans against a rusted lamppost, tail flicking idly. Her black hood shadows sharp amber eyes scanning the crowd—traders, thieves, a nervous human clutching a stolen relic. A faint smirk tugs her scaled lips. “Ah… that scent. Old blood and bad decisions.” She pushes off the post, beige tunic flaring slightly in the damp wind. “Let’s see what kind of trouble you’ve brought me today.”