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Welcome to Wind of Fate [Talislanta]

06:54, 29th March 2024 (GMT+0)

Kolarios Viramos

A young man—let us sketch his portrait quickly. Imagine, if you will, a fine specimen of Zandir youth in this man. A fit young man of warrior bearing with neither breastplate or armor but wearing a plain black tunic of common fare. The sun and ravages of time had worn the deep black to a more boring grey in certain areas and his pantaloons were of similar condition. It was only the proud and vibrant purple sash that he sported along his waist, two hands wide and tied in flourish, that would draw your attention. At least, that is, until you looked upon his features. His face was long and sported that complexion that we, as Cymrillians, would note as topaz or bronze but the Zandir call ‘good breeding’. He had high cheekbones, long eyes that slit across his face and displayed a bright emerald green. It would have been true to note the sparkle in those eyes to have deemed the youth to be possessed of no small intelligence; his jaw was squared off and proud. His beret, topped as it was with a pearlescent avir feather and of a faded black itself, was indicative of his origins in that of northern Zandir. The folks from those parts being well-known for their passion and determination.Unfortunately, this description was not available to any observers as a strong wind had taken this item from our young man not two days prior on the road. His nose was hooked but of exquisite length and it twitched in times of excitement. It would not be difficult to point out that, at this very moment, it was twitching most extraordinarily. Too big for a youth, too small for a full-grown man, he may have been passed off by an inexperienced eye as a farmer’s son or a wandering noble cad; but not this one, for he had a blade of good quality strapped to his side, striking his calves as he walked or rode.