If anything, he looked, from his faded, tattered leathers and furs, to be Barghast. Covered in scars – more scars of battle than Toc had ever seen on a single person before. Despite this, there was a comfort, there in his face – a gentleman’s face, no more than twenty years of age, the features pronounced, heavy-boned, framed in long black hair devoid of any fetishes or braids. His eyes were a soft brown as he looked up at Toc. Toc had never met this man before. ‘Hello. Is there something you wish?’ he asked, impatient to be away. The man shook his head. ‘I only sought to look upon you, to see
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