As Shinja—the Stormblade—introduced himself, Shane couldn't help but smile as he felt that the name really suited the Warlord in front of him.
Indeed, he could easily tell that he had summoned a warlord, a man who had carved his name in blood and fire.
Shane extended his hand, and their grip was firm.
"I am Shane," he said, "the lord of this shelter. And this is Chaloem, our monk. He had just arrived a few moments ago before you."
Chaloem stepped forward, his eyes curious yet respectful.
Shane actually felt glad at the two's presence.
The monk's presence was calming, a counterbalance to the storm that Shinja represented.
It felt like a yin and yang that he had read before.
Shinja clasped Shane's hand, the calluses on his palm telling tales of countless battles. "It's my honor to serve you, Lord Shane…" he declared before he looked at the monk and gave him a nod.
Chaloem bowed slightly.
"A pleasure to meet you, Shinja."
