Name: Sana "Salts"
Age: 38
Height: 5'8"
Weight: --
Race: Human


"There are old rogues and there are bold rogues, but there are very few old and bold rogues"


Sana was an old rogue, her dark chestnut hair kept comfortably short brushed the top of her neck, it's haphazard state only offset by the single braid over her left ear capped with a dark purple bead, it had an inky black hole painted into it's smooth surface, giving homage to a dark goddess. The bead itself was as weathered as the woman, her bright cerulean eyes flecked with wisdom that took it's toll on the rest of her body, starting at the crow's-feet that crinkled on the edge of her gaze. Just below those bright hues ran a jagged and fleshy bundle of scar tissue that ran over her pale freckled cheeks and curved across her nose, a whip mark much like the ones that were rarely visible on her exposed back. Wrinkles sometimes formed in her smiles, and creased in her hands.

About her neck dangled on a single chain a mixture of old religions; Kossuth's fire, Tyche's star, Shaundakul's wind, Hoar's coin, Selune's eyes, Mask's mask... and finally Mystra's magic... never know who might be watching.

Still old habits died hard, not even creaking bones and rough mornings could keep the woman from soldiering on to the next day with a light step and cheeky smile which always looked like she was smiling twice with the way the scar's tail poked up on her dimpled cheek.

She carried a few heirlooms from her glory days, a fine stiletto rapier jutting up from her belt, it's metal tarnished from age, though it's hand-wrapping seems freshly replaced implying it was well regarded by it's caretaker. Never far from that same rapier lay a thick dagger which looked like it could've only been cut from obsidian, if one stared too long at it shadows and wisps might flit on the corners of their vision, disappearing whenever an attempt was made to track them.

Finally no seasoned sneak would be without the satchel of goods, her's conspicuously looking little more than a rough spun hip-bag, within it though were all the tools of the trade; Densely coiled wire, spring triggers, caltrops, a few vials of poison, lock picks, gloves, and of course, a tome tucked full of scrolls.