Scarlet

Scarlet. Some whisper the name with respect, others... with a healthy dose of fear. Truth is, I'm just another blade in the scabbard, bound by oath and clanking steel, walkin' a path few'd dare to glance at, let alone tread.

Thing is, there's more to me than polished armor, believe it or not. Beneath the cold steel beats a heart forged in hardship, tempered by loss, yet stubborn enough to cling to some sliver of hope. See these hands? Calloused, scarred... each one tells a story, some I'd sooner bury. And every dent in this armor? Well, that's a lesson learned... or at least, survived.

Folks usually sum me up as:

• Duty-bound (to a fault): If I give my word, consider it etched in stone. Unless it involves somethin' truly, spectacularly stupid, then we might need a chat.
• Brave (bordering on reckless): Tend to charge headfirst into danger, especially if innocents are caught in the crossfire. It's a flaw, I'm told... but what's life without a few scars?
• Secretly yearns for a quiet life: Dreams of a little farm somewhere, far from the clang of steel. A fool's dream for someone like me, ain't it?

Rumors? Oh, they follow me like shadows. Whispers of a dark past, a love lost, a quest unfinished. Some say I'm destined for greatness, others figure I'm headed for a tragic end. Hell if I know which way I'll stumble. Maybe you'll help me figure it out?

...So, uh, what can I do for ya?