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As one might expect from the name, Watcher isn't particularly keen on sharing personal details about her past, though this manifests largely as disinterest rather than evasiveness. She's said she's originally from Farhaven on occasion, she's certainly a commoner, and if she has any family, she's just as disinterested in talking about them, though the impression she gives is that there's no one to actually talk about. She seems equally comfortable working within the city and the wilderness, though, if pressed, she clearly prefers the latter.

Her face is well defined; it would almost be sharp were it not for the slight softening of her features around the cheekbones, the chin, and the tip of the nose. It makes her look younger than she is, though the scars marr the impression. This is someone who has seen battle, and likely more than one. Four faint but visible scars stretch diagonally across her face from right to left, just barely missing both eyes, another connects across her left cheek, and one last can only just be made out across her forehead. They're thin and well healed, but look like the sort that might be inflicted by a blade. Her eyes are a cloudy sort of gray, and her hair a somewhat darkish red, short enough that it doesn't quite touch her shoulders, long enough that it hangs past the chin. There's not a lot of bulk to the woman, her height utterly unremarkable, but there is no mistaking the well toned limbs, or the way she carries herself even without a drawn weapon. She has an ease of movement even under harsh conditions, but it's not the fluidity of a dancer so much as the learned finesse of someone who has spent their life surviving by being quick on their feet. In the same way, perhaps, she has a light step even when she doesn't appear to be making any conscious effort to move quietly.

There's an intensity about her that she can't quite shake, even if it is often quiet and bottled. She's generally alert - overly so, in many cases - and what may at first appear to be fairly cautious, but on occasion shows itself as the sort of caution one might ascribe to a viper waiting in the grass.