The air in the city smelled dewey. To be fair, it always smelled a little dewey in Romba, but it was usually a more industrial smelling kind of dewey. Kajulan, who was tucked away in a crevice beside the street, would personally describe said smell as metallic. Like coins. Or blood.

Not that blood was something she smelled a lot. More than average, for sure, but not quite a lot. It was unavoidable in her line of work. Lots of competition, lots of violent dispositions.

Kajulan had picked out the hidey hole she was currently waiting in a while ago. It was the perfect place in the city of Romba for someone like her. Far away enough from the nice parts of town that the guard rarely ever ventured it, but not so downtrodden that it worried the rich folk to travel. Of course, if people kept getting robbed, that might change one day.

Clearly it was not this day though. . .