Background:
Violet stands about six-foot-three, her skin marked by years of travel under sun and dust. Her long black hair fades to silver at the ends, often tucked beneath a worn wide-brimmed hat. A fluffy scarf guards her face from the wind, and a dark duster coat hangs over reinforced leathers that show the wear of long roads and rough work. At her hips rest a revolvers, well-kept and finely made, its handle smooth from countless draws. On her back, a custom rolling back rifle, polished and coated in fine varnish, and made from a dark wood, a black metallic barrel that seems to hold tenebrous power. 

She began her life on the trade routes as a caravan guard for the Veythra Mercantile Guild, a merchant company known for crossing dangerous lands in search of profit. She proved herself reliable and skilled with a gun, earning quiet respect from those who rode beside her. But loyalty meant little when greed took hold. When a rival guild ambushed her convoy, the higher-ups made a deal to save their own interests, leaving her team behind. Violet was the only one to walk away, and she left the guild soon after, taking her guns and nothing else.

Now she works where the road takes her. Sometimes she still takes work from the Veythra Guild when the pay is fair and the job clean. Other times she hires herself out as a gun-for-hire, guarding merchants or hunting down those who cross them. She speaks little about her past and has no memory of the name she once carried.

Most say Violet works for coin. Some think she is chasing something else. Either way, when trouble comes riding through the dust, her name is never far behind.