Around his head was a metal circlet adorned with carved deep green olive leaves, his face was a disguise, an empty dark brown quiver hung on his back, and he held a piece of beast skin in his hand, which only upon occasional unfurling revealed itself to be a Ceremonial Cape, its azure-grey insignia spread flat at the center.
He pocketed the portrait of his beloved granddaughter inside the pocket on his chest, and glared fiercely at his old adversary across from him, even though his foe did not notice due to the disguise, the intentional heaviness in his nasal tone still communicated his dissatisfaction.
As expected, the man across, encased in iron, responded to him, that old man obsessed with his hair, tapped his armor over his chest with a finger, a mocking gesture typical of the Dreya, implying that the next assault would pierce your chest.
