Tailadir de Carpathia
A long, dirty blonde braid hangs down to this warrior's waist, emerald green eyes flick to you once, acknowledging your presence. His features are hard chiseled, as if carved from some odd, immutable stone. Adorning his face, whiskers the color of freshly threshed wheat hang. The emerald eyes blink, as the cold dispassion leaves his face, and a slow grin crosses his lips, baring large canines on both upper and lower jaws, the sign of the wolf upon its keeper. With a toss of his head, the braid flying to the wind, he walks onward, dressed in a tight fitting chainmail shirt, with black leather cuffs and leggings. Soft, swash-topped boots make his passage silent as the passing of day to night, and the overpowering sense of Earthpower travels away with this road-worn voyager.