The woman stood alert as the large, scratched and worn gates of the Dojo creaked open, revealing the night. The woman was meek, small, hooded and with a cloak of red highlights and beautiful craftsmanship. A hood and long, black hair obscured her face, but the part that was visible was of Eastern heritage, and still beautiful despite the large, bloody dent under her eye. Many leather straps and pockets held throwing knives of silver, each engraved with specific names and different edges. She approached and nodded, the broach of ivory that hung on her neck swaying as she walked by the knight and into the Dojo.