He smells of unclean streets, this lanky waif, and his long black hair and beard are tangled and greasy. Dirt stains his skin and his rags. The fine shortbow hung on his back and the bulge of a quiver under his cloak might seem out of place, but his tatters fail to conceal the stained yet oiled leather that protects his body and a belt holding several long blades in battered sheaths. His dark eyes are clear, seeking… precise. Knobby at the knuckles, his wiry hands look strong, rough, and ready. A few long and deep scars speak of battles he has survived if not won.
~ Envisioned by a Hero
