As you wander across the streets of Sinifer, your eyes fall upon a large shape sitting most likely under an awning. The larger being filled out a couch normally meant for two it was resting on. The man you face, looks at first glance to what one might see as the muscled shape of a huge orc. An aged face showed scars and markings, done by time, weather and a harsher life. A gruff beard, which turned from grey to white, garmented the broad jawline of this impressive being, while the man´s head had lost its hair. Even seated, he could talk to most people face to face. Two red glinting eyes turned to you, as you stopped to examine this orc. The pupils turned in the sunlight to slits and the reflection of the sun in them gave them even a light red glow. Yet instead of the normal olive or green this thick skin had the brown tone of earth, or of someone who had been under a harsh sun all his life.
 
Between the mans roughened lips clung a wooden pipe and a thin trail of white smoke rose past the scarred face into the air. And when the man sucked in some breath for a pull on it a row of sharper fangs revealed itself. Impressive looking tusks loomed forth from this man´s lips, even if they had in this aged warrior´s case more the form of fangs. Had someone seen in the past this man in armor, the matured orc was by now sitting there with a loose open heavy shirt. Scars ran along the thick-skinned chest, like landmarks on a map. Showing where a blade a fang or a claw had found this orc´s thick hide. Showing likely what the man had seen, where he had been and what he had stood up to.

A necklace along his neck showed fangs and claws from different predators which the hunter had encountered. Another chain beheld a large sigil, the mark of a councilman of Maurnan. Together with an emblem of the city of Nim and the Aeon Empire as high Arbiter and Judge. If it were active duties or fond memories of this aged man would be unknown.
 
A belt with pouches and tools was wrapped along the man`s midst by now, together with a sharp cut Franziska to throw. A knife hung loosely next to it and a larger bag stood between the man`s boots. The male´s head tilted lightly, and the eyes shimmered in narrow slits now even more with intensity, as the aged orc obviously returned the curiosity you have given him. You notice next to the man on a small table a larger mug containing his choice of drink.
 
A large leather and furred cloak garmented the man`s shoulders wrapping around the aged warrior`s body. And when cold and snow struck the roads of Sinifer he would be wrapped in it, a grim look on his face, showing now love for frozen water from the sky.

A larger calloused hand heavily tapped it´s fingers along the table, next to the mug as this colossus of an orc studied you with as much intent as you do in return. And even if there was these days no obvious weapon up front, one could see a large war axe and a shield leaning in the backwall of the booth, ready and well kept.
 
And only when a lighter voice from somewhere else would call a name, the intent given stare would lift from you. The large hand would stop it´s tapping and reach for the mug of mead. And the aged warrior turned his head elsewhere to follow the voice. A low rumbling growl coming from the scarred chest as the red eyes scanned for the one who had called one word...

"Khovuk"...  


Reds: The usual common sense reds.
For all the rest of IC and OOC matters, setting up things and wishes, shoot a tell. Player is tell friendly


((Thanks a lot for the visual overhaul to the Motherly Leopard :) ))