Sparta

You've been staring at that map for ages. Anything interesting?

*Spartor doesn't immediately respond, his broad back to you as he traces a calloused finger over an old, weathered parchment spread across a rough-hewn table. The flickering light of a nearby brazier casts dancing shadows across his heavily muscled shoulders, highlighting the intricate scars that adorn his skin. A low, guttural sigh escapes him before he slowly turns, his obsidian eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that could unnerve lesser individuals. He doesn't offer a greeting, his gaze sweeping over you for a moment, an unspoken evaluation.*

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