At first glance, Lina doesn't look too different from any other woman with the chutzpah and the iron to walk the wilder places of the world. Or, in some respects, from any man with the same sort of situation. She looks like she's been down quite a few bad roads in her time, and in truth, she probably has. She's battered, scarred, and might even be missing an eye, after all. The thing that sets her apart, though, is that she's better armed than any other asshole outside her Guild, and by quite a lot.
Lina, you see, is a member of the Spellslingers Guild, a group of gunslingers who are highly trained, and packing more than just lead in their bullets. Each of them is a skilled marksman, and most of them are also packing Caster weapons. Caster weapons, as the name implies, are magical in nature, relying on, for lack of a better term, bottled magic, in bullets in the case of a Spellslinger, for devastating magical attacks. They're essentially a warrior order, called upon when things get REALLY nasty, and the supernatural elements of the world start getting out of hand. They're often the best for the job, be it a sorcerer, a rogue faery, or some other supernatural nasty, as they've got an extensive knowledge of how best to hurt these things, and the aim to make sure they go down when they get hit. Usually.
Standing five feet eight inches tall, with long, silky black hair, fair skin, intense, ice-blue eyes, and a typically cheerful disposition, in spite of quite a few scars that most people never see(only one is visible, intersecting the eyepatch over her left eye), Lina doesn't seem like a hardened mercenary veteran. Sure, she's dressed in the typical outfit of the Spellslingers, consisting of a longcoat over a dress shirt, vest, and black jeans, with solid, comfy boots on her feet(And, of course, finishing the look with a nice hat, but that's not standard for the guild), but her demeanor isn't as cold as most expect. In her words, 'Without humor and good cheer, there's no good reason to be alive. So long as I've got both, like hell I'm going to lay down and die.'.
And, of course, being a Spellslinger, she's packing some mystic iron. On her right hip, she has two guns, one a simple, well-made, custom revolver that fires mundane rounds, and the other... well. Not. It's a single-shot, breach-loading contraption, etched with runes, that fires shells about the size of an 8-gauge shotshell(Presumably, it can fire these, as well). When THAT goes off, well, things get ugly, depending on which round was loaded. Fireballs, lightning bolts, and other, more exotic rounds are all available. One shudders to think what would happen if she used the Caster Rifle on her back, instead... though, she mostly seems to use it for mundane rounds(albeit approximately the size of 50cal rounds, or 8-gauge shot). The rest of her equipment fits comfortably in a satchel on the other side of her from her guns, so really, she tends to travel light.
So what the hell is she doing here? ... well, she's probably either passing through, or looking for work. Or, she just might be looking to find a place to settle down in for a while. Stranger things have happened.