It's a common story; raised by a grandmother after her parents disappeared, Murin spent most of her days in the streets and back alleys of Bazagon. Of formal schooling she has none, she can't even write her own name - that isn't to say that she's stupid; what she knows is people.

She learned swearing and cheating from merchant sailors by the berths of the big sea-going galleys. Charm and etiquette from the showmen and women in the great arenas and theaters. Her personal trainers were the quick-handed, long-legged footpads and muggers that prey in every shadow beyond the Thousand Eyes of the law.

And common sense she learned from the city itself; the ever-changing mazes of its streets, the influx of strange and disparate peoples and the steady grind of coin and cleavage powdering them all into the raw stuff of Bazagon.

She can see the streets closing in behind her; ready to devour her like she's seen them devour so many orphans, dreamers, and vagrants before her; and it's fear of that ignoble fate that drives her.

Appearance and manner:
- Black eyes
- Black hair
- Pale freckled skin
- She has an uncharacteristically deep voice.
- Awkwardly large extremities.
- Rather tall for an urchin; about 6 feet.

In fact, a lifetime of compensating for her appearance is to what she credits her reasonable charisma; that is of course, if she's able to hurdle the first impression.

Traits:
- Assumes anyone being nice to her unprompted, is hiding some dark intent.
- Is a coward at heart, and will run from a fight that seems hopeless or outnumbered.
- Remembers her roots; and will dutifully leave marks of the Thieves' Cant as she travels to inform the "community" of dangers and opportunities.