Scarlet had been sticking to the back of the column out of shyness... she was so out of touch with the world of man that she never knew the right things to say and always ended up sounding odd and out of place. She glanced around, at least here in the company of so many different kinds of people she didn't feel like as much of a freak, and she certainly didn't look the part. She was fairly ordinary looking- a short and slender human with pale skin, small breasts and long, red hair. She was wearing a dirty white, loose fitting, tattered knee length skirt and little more than a cloth wrapped around her chest to cover her nipples.<br/><br/>No, what was unusual about her was that the girl, herself, was actually just a vessel, a young woman named Katrina, who would speak up from time to time, Scarlet did not hold her body captive or anything, but Katrina was even more shy and less sure of herself, due to a rather tortured past. Scarlet was the rusty looking, red hilted scimitar which hung from the girl's waist, kept fastened by a rather ill fitting leather belt.<br/><br/>Being near the back of the caravan, she was one of the first to notice the cloaked figure with the oddly colored skin. She held up her hand in greeting, tilting her head as she tried to figure out in her head where he might be from. "Greetings, kind sir," she said with a slight lilting accent, "from whence doth thou hail, to be of such... interesting... pigmentation?"