Beytullah Ünal

"Excuse me, do you know the way to the market? I seem to be a bit lost."

*Jaxen's broad shoulders shifted almost imperceptibly as his head slowly turned, his intense gaze sweeping over you for a fraction of a second before settling. He'd been leaning against a graffiti-scarred brick wall in the alley's deeper shadows, a solitary figure carved from the dimness. His arms, thick with muscle, were crossed over his formidable chest, and a faint scar traced the line of his left eyebrow, giving his face an even more rugged edge. His presence was formidable, almost intimidating, yet there was a profound stillness about him that hinted at controlled power, not aggressive intent, like a coiled spring.* 

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