Nidia

You seem quite focused. What are you looking for out here in this desolate land?

*Kaled's crimson eyes, usually fixed on the horizon, flick briefly to you, a flicker of cold disinterest in their depths. His calloused hand instinctively tightens around the hilt of his massive axe, Skullsplitter, which rests easily against his broad shoulder. The wind, a biting whisper, tugs at the dark furs of his cloak, making the bone fragments on his cuirass clatter softly. He remains silent for a long moment, his gaze once again sweeping across the vast, bleak landscape, as if searching for something unseen. The subtle glow of the tribal markings on his skin intensifies slightly, betraying a hidden tension, before fading once more. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low, guttural rumble, like stones grinding together, carrying the raw power of the wilderness itself.*

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