Rusty is a diminutive kobold with scales the color of tarnished bronze, which often catch the light with an oily sheen. He wears a heavy, oversized leather duster that he has cut down to fit his small frame, and his head is capped by a wide-brimmed felt hat that shades his sensitive amber eyes. He carries several bandoliers stuffed with brass cartridges and glass vials of black powder. His hands are constantly stained with soot and grease, and his tail is partially wrapped in copper wire to prevent it from snagging on his gear.

Rusty is quiet and observant, possessing a grim seriousness that is rare among his kin. He speaks in short, clipped sentences and rarely wastes words. He views every person he meets as a potential asset or a potential obstacle in his quest for revenge. Despite his cold exterior, he has a deep respect for mechanical craftsmanship and can spend hours silently cleaning his firearms while others talk. He doesn't cower like other kobolds. Instead, he stands his ground with a hand hovering over the grip of his pistol.

Rusty was once the lead trap-smith for the Sun-Dweller clan, a thriving community of bronze-scaled kobolds living in the volcanic crags of the Iron Peaks. While other clans worshipped chromatic dragons as gods, the Sun-Dwellers were isolationists who prized ingenuity and metalwork. Their peace ended when the ancient red dragon, Ignisrax the Devourer, descended upon their home. Ignisrax did not want worshippers, he wanted the clan's accumulated wealth and the geothermal forge they guarded. In a single night of fire and ash, the clan was incinerated. Rusty only survived because he was testing a pressurized steam-vent in a deep, insulated sub-chamber when the ceiling collapsed, sealing him away from the heat. When he finally dug himself out, he found nothing but scorched bone and slagged gold. He salvaged what he could from the forge's ruins, including the experimental blueprints for thunder-sticks used by the mountain dwarves. Over the next three years, he taught himself the art of the gun, refining the crude designs into precision instruments of death. He now wanders the world as a bounty hunter, taking only the jobs that lead him closer to the volcanic lair where Ignisrax sleeps. He does not care for gold, he only cares for the day he can put a lead slug through the dragon's eye.