Delilah Del Rey, the Light that Never Goes Out
- Scourge Aasimar
Delilah is not a tall woman, though you wouldn’t know it to look at her. She positively shines, light suffusing her brown skin and sapphire eyes. Loose black curls tumble down her back. She usually wears leather, putting her bombastic curves on display; she wears a dagger and a rapier on her left hip and a whip on her right. She favors black, jewel-deep blue and crimson, and when she’s working, the browns and greys of city streets.
Delilah may be the only person left who remembers the last good cops in the city — she’d have to, as one of them was her father. She grew up poor and humble, as the families of truly good-hearted public servants often do, but with the run of the streets of her mother Baileymena. Her mother’s depth and deception and her father’s kindness wove together into a woman of mysterious priorities, fierce protectiveness, and unplumbed depths of skill.