Sixten Calida

Standing just over six feet tall, this slightly rotund man stands before you. White pupils and irises shimmer kindly as an equally kind smile spreads across his rugged, yet handsome, blue skinned face. Short and well-kept deep blue hair appears to flutter ever so slightly, an equally dark blue beard overs his chin and upper lip.

A set of robes made of different animal hides protect his body, heavy leather boots shod his feet. A long sword hangs at his belt loosely along with different totems and fetishes; as does a heavy looking warhammer.

Just poking out of his backpack is a tiny figurine made of wicker or twine, it's feminine frame dressed in mismatched and patchwork bits of cloth.

The man has an air of ancient times about him, his smile kind and yet filled with untold sadness. The wind seems to carry the sound of one or two voices that are merely more than whispers. You aren't even sure you even heard anything in the first place.

As he looks at you, a feeling of realization or recognition washes over you, but it quickly fades, even as you think about it. Perhaps you bumped into him a month ago at a market, perhaps you knew each other in past life.