Iron Rose

You reach a sturdy two-story building squeezed between a loud blacksmith and a dingy apothecary. From the outside, the Iron Rose Training Center looks deceptively plain — plain grey stone walls, heavy iron-barred windows, and a single dramatic blood-red rose vine climbing the left side of the entrance.

A small bronze plaque beside the thick oak door simply reads: “The Iron Rose – Discipline for the Weak and Weaker”

You push the door open and enter. A striking figure stands behind a black desk. A tall, fit woman, with skin like a metal sheen, and thin, wires for hair. Wearing a metal mask that seems like jagged triangles welded to one another, it's impossible to discern her facial features.

She's a steelskin. Hailing from the northern provinces, and born ten times as tough as most humans.

Carrying a rod by her hip, she seems to be the instructor of this establishment. And eagerly awaits any newfound students.