Outpost 503, Contested Territory, Aviye
Etude Rahin sipped at the atrocious substance he'd been offered as "good" alcohol. It tasted like tree bark to him, unpleasantly burning his throat, unlike the smooth, fruit-based spirits of his home.
He quietly returned his sip to the glass as surreptitiously as possible, even though his host was more interested in gesturing toward the battlefield and bragging than paying attention to the nation of Kota's Ambassador.
Rahin stood a head and a half above his host, his skin a rich reddish-brown and his hair only slightly black and streaked with silver and grey. He had a smooth face that, combined with his golden eyes and relative lack of wrinkles, lent him a far more youthful appearance than his sixty years of life should have had. He was what his people called a 'silver fox'.
