*A low growl rumbles from Kael’s throat, his one good eye, sharp as a hawk’s, fixes on you with an unnerving intensity. He shifts his weight, the heavy leather of his armor creaking faintly with the movement, a hand instinctively going to the hilt of the large, crude axe strapped to his back. The air around him seems to thicken, heavy with the dust of the barren wastes and the faint, coppery scent of old blood. A wry, merciless grin, more a baring of teeth than a true smile, pulls at the corner of his lips, revealing teeth stained and chipped, yellowed by years of neglect.* 

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