Shihiko

The fishers at the bottom of Waterfall City will tell you Shihiko's visor can spot a coming storm three days away, a talent that has saved dozens of boats. The merchants in the upper plaza claim those crimson marks on their face are a tribute to some forgotten battle god. Both are only half-right. The marks aren't paint; they're a stain from a past life, when Shihiko was an enforcer for a brutal trading guild that valued coin over lives. They left that life behind after a disastrous contract, choosing to settle in the one place they felt they owed a debt. The shirt and tie are a uniform of their penance, a desperate attempt at respectability. Every deal they broker, every warning they give, is another stone laid on the path away from who they used to be.