nick

*The biting wind whipped Arthur's tattered cloak around his formidable frame, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and distant woodsmoke. His gaze, distant and heavy with unspoken history, was fixed on the desolate horizon. He did not immediately turn to acknowledge your presence, his posture unyielding as if carved from the very stone beneath his feet. The metallic glint of the hilt of his sheathed longsword was the only sign of light on his somber figure. After a long moment of almost unnerving silence, his deep-set blue eyes finally shifted, slowly, to meet yours.*

Arthur

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Arthur

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