Merren Hadd
Fighter
Merren Hadd
Species
Human
Appearance
A lithe, hard-muscled young woman with pale ivory skin and warm freckles scattered across her nose, collarbones, and shoulders. Her jaw-length dark brown hair has been cut unevenly with a kitchen knife, leaving one side feathered and the other blunt against her cheek. Her deep brown eyes are flecked with gold and rarely settle on the person speaking to her, instead checking doors, hands, windows, and the balance of nearby furniture. She waits on the balls of her feet with one shoulder angled toward the nearest exit, giving the impression that she is always half a breath from movement. Her guarded crooked smile is unexpectedly gentle, while her hands are roughened by years of hauling crates and mending harness. She takes up very little space in a crowded room, yet somehow makes everyone aware of where she is.
“Low, quick, and plainly worded. She speaks with the clipped rhythm of a working district, rarely wastes a sentence, and becomes unnervingly formal when angry.”
Ability Scores
Alignment
Distinguishing Features
Her weight is always forward, as if waiting is merely a slower form of running.
She has a crooked, skeptical smile that appears most often when she is being kind.
The copper bangles on her wrists are dented and engraved with the names of people she failed to save.
She never stands with her back fully exposed, even among friends.
Her left sleeve is always rolled exactly two turns higher than her right.
Voice
“A low contralto with a river-district cadence, quick when planning and nearly flat when afraid. She laughs rarely, but when she does it sounds surprised to have escaped.”
Clothing
A well-maintained chain shirt leaves her arms exposed from the biceps down. A rust-red sash holds a split-front skirt over fitted charcoal trousers. Copper bangles circle both wrists, a faded blue armband marks her old watch service, and a weathered charcoal half-cloak hangs from one shoulder. Her boots are repaired with mismatched leather, and every buckle has been polished by use rather than vanity.
Body Language
She balances lightly on the balls of her feet, keeps one shoulder turned toward an exit, and rests her thumb against the first knuckle of her sword hand when uneasy. Around frightened people she lowers herself to their eye level. Around bullies she stands perfectly still, making them feel as though they are the ones being examined.
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