Aimee was taken aback by the person in front of her, but her hand clenched the sheath tightly. "I won't let you hurt these people..." she said, hesitantly, but she felt almost frozen in place. Fear overwhelmed her, she hated fighting in all forms. She could hear screams of rage and excitement growing in her head at the challenge this man provided, but she wanted so badly to hold them back. "Why would you want to do this...?" The room was teeming with energy, her inner demons trying to rip through the surface and destroy him, but she held strong. Her knuckles were white with how tight she was gripping her sheath by that point and she willed her body to move closer.<br/><em><br/>She sat silently in the darkest corner of the tower she could think of. That was where her daddy told her to go. She remembered the scene, the slavers had broken down the doors to their parcel. She, along with many other large gypsy families, lived on this piece of land happily, easily, until they came. She could see everything from where she was, the sole survivor of her village of nearly 20 other families, at least 100 people, a good majority of which were the children of her generation. Her heart sunk as she looked to the fires below and tears fell from her eyes for wishing that she could save them all. Then, everything went black. When she awoke, the attackers were all slaughtered and mangled beyond all belief. She did all she could to start screaming in fear</em>.<br/><br/>As Aimee continued her inner conflict, the man walked out from behind the door and eyed him, "boy, why are ya makin' trouble in my bar? The little lady has been here a night, she wasn't makin' no trouble. Now, I'm gonna have to ask ya to be gettin' on your--" he stopped mid sentence as he was flung by a wave of energy to the back wall. While the impact was painful, he was alive. Her eyes and hair slowly turned from bright red to a more crimson. The red hood and cloak fell and the person below was actually rather pretty for being homicidal. Tan skin, a few scars here and there but still smooth. She grinned a rather toothy grin and approached the man she viewed as a challenger, her thumb pushing her sword out of it's sheath ever so slightly. "Play...?" She said in a low gutteral voice.