[i]As smoke and flame poured into the skies of the morning dawn, a solitary traveler appeared upon the pathway thar lead into the burning village, smoldering ashes washing over her armored body and tainting the pure ivory tint of the chassis. Each step carried a power behind it, yet was delicate and composed, a faint rustle of chainmail with each foot brushing against the ground.[/i] [i]The being in general was feminine in posture: though, concerning my characters, unsurprisingly taller, at five feet and eleven inches tall. Her being was shrouded by the durable armor that she had borne: ivory white in color, yet ceramite in the making, with alloyed steel chainlinks underneath. A barbuta helmet covered her head from view, a red plume protruded from it's back while an ancient blood red cape fell from her back, attached to her left shoulder pauldron.[/i] [i]She kneeled down, left knee pressed against the ashy, dirty ground as she felt the crumbling hand of a cauterized man, flames still flickering off of him. Rising up, the woman shook her head, looking upon the perpetrators - and their final victim, with what may have been disgust. Or even a liking, one couldn't tell.[/i] "...There must be good reason, to cause such chaos." [i]Her voice was almost as composed as her posture, leaving no evidence of emotion and feeling. She hid behind the mask of being a questioning, curious individual, yet definitively, seemed to long for peace between herself and the two killers. Not only a serenity, but there was something else: a certainly odd tension around the being: as she had came armored, yet without weaponry..[/i]