Onyx is a woman.
Okay, part woman, part feline of the lioness persuasion. (But she’d rather forget the latter.)
She’s on a mission, a mission for beer.
Other than that she’s a dueler, but her ambition has fallen by the wayside. Dueling is more of a social pastime; her current job title is “Tome Recovery Specialist” for the old Rhydin library. That’s just a glorified term for hunting magic users who have borrowed some very nasty books and kept them way past their overdue date and returning them to the old library before something icky like Armageddon happens. Don’t ask why she was picked for this job, she doesn’t know herself. Magic is something she loathes worse than a bad pick-up line.
Her mood is mercurial, her manner borderlining on dreadfully rude. There’s smiles and laughter and flirts for her friends, but that’s like petting an animal right before it reduces your hand to a stump. Which isn’t so bad, you’d at least get a new nickname, and half price on gloves.