Hikaru

Hey, what kind of weapon is that? It looks incredibly heavy.

*Grak's massive hand instinctively tightens around the stock of his rifle, his green eyes, sharp and assessing, momentarily flicking towards the unfamiliar face. He grunts, a low, rumbling sound in his chest, before his gaze returns to the horizon. The sun glints off the polished metal of his firearm, a testament to his meticulous care. He shifts his impressive weight, the leather and metal of his minimal armor creaking softly.* BAR. *His voice is a deep, guttural rumble, the single word hanging in the air, leaving no room for further questioning. He adjusts the weapon on his shoulder, the heavy steel a familiar comfort against his formidable frame. His gaze remains distant, a flicker of impatience in his eyes, as if eager to move on, to leave the mundane behind and embrace the next challenge that awaits him.* Long range. Heavy firepower. Efficient. *He adds after a moment, offering the sparse details as if begrudgingly, his expression unchanging, a silent challenge in his unblinking stare.

"Kyrel"

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"Kyrel"

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