If it wasn't the chems, it was guns -- more often than not it was both, and Jayden hated every day she spent among the endless sea of degeneracy throughout the underground metros of low kingdom. Raised in the Centralpolis, Jayden knew something much more akin to a life than those of the fringe stations or dust ghettos, but that did little to sate her discomfort. Stating that she had a rough childhood wouldn't exactly be correct. While she had to dampen her rags with the blood of fractured noses and cracked teeth, this live and let live mentality was generally considered luxury when fighting over the last unmolded bread loaf. Her victories were few, but her defeats made her stronger. 

Towering over her peers at just over 6-feet from head to toe -adiving another 2-5 inches depending on how well her hair has been kept- and weighing in round 210 pounds, this 26 year old is a 4th grade graduate of the Nomancered. Jayden abstains from traditional weaponry out of her absolute contempt for those who had put her father into a comatose state during her first 2 years at the Magic College. Instead, she fights with fashion, utilizing the deadly metals and spiked cuffs from her coat to disorient, wrap up, and strike anyone who might wish harm on the innocent or the societal peace that has persisted for the past 15 years. ne'er-do-wells beware, this red blooded woman has come to clean the streets of its filth, one vagabond at a time -- then, the corruption of low kingdom.