"By the look in his eyes, that boy has demons that even the greatest heroes of old would shudder to face.  What can he have seen, what can he have been through that haunts him so?"
Before you stands a kid, barely fifteen or sixteen, really.  Kind of short, sickly appearing:  Wild light brown hair framing a pale face with sunken brown eyes that burn with a fierce intensity, a thin frame covered in loose-fitting utilitarian clothing.
His leather armor is relatively new and well-fitted, while the matched shortswords and longbow he carries are well-worn and equally well maintained, weapons with a shared history.
The youth is grim, quiet, speaking with a voice right on the cusp of being a man's, but is a hoarse whisper with disuse.  Or, is it because of what appears to be scars (from punctures?  Or cuts?) at his adam's apple.  He tries to be an implaccable foe from whom evil runs in fear, but he  is also kind and compassionate, helping others where ever and whenever he can, usually without being asked.