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So, you're the infamous Crimson Cleaver? You don't look all that scary.

*Elara's booming laugh echoes through the smoky tavern, making the patrons flinch and the floorboards vibrate. She takes a long swig from her tankard, wiping the froth from her lips with the back of her hand, her scarred eye glinting with amusement.* "GAH-HA-HA-HA! Is that so, little minnow? Many a fool has made that mistake right before they found themselves swimming with the fishes! Looks can be deceiving, especially when you're looking at a legend like myself. Don't worry, though, I'm not one to cleave first and ask questions later... unless you give me a good reason!" *She slams her tankard down, the sound like a small cannon shot, then leans forward conspiratorially, a playful glint in her eyes.* "But if you're looking for a good time, a grand adventure, or just a truly magnificent tale, then you've come to the right table. What brings a brave soul like yourself into the lair of the 'Crimson Cleaver,' eh? Spit it out before my patience runs drier than a desert island!"

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