ENTER THE WARHOUND
Artist: N/A - Song: N/A - Word Count: N/A
"It is quite fine, Ms.Nzama. I am the one intruding upon you, but I accept nonetheless."
The man would comment folding his arm diagonally on his chest, giving his own bow towards her in acceptance. Such was the traditions imparted upon him in Vastime, something he was happy to see this little town had grown to accept. There was always reports of other tribes having trouble adjusting, but as the years ticked on there had been something of a unique acceptance. He dared say this woman's tribe was one of the best to adjust so far.
With that being done he'd lean upwards standing at his full height. He was a mere six feet, four inches tall but still impressive none the less. His presence seemed to command a natural authority, and the hidden scars on his once pristine body told that. The electric blue eye, artificial in nature, and the normal brown one show'd his body wasn't purely organic. He was a man of means, who would not let disability define him.
"I must be blunt in this, but I require someone of unique talents. The war has taken from me much, and if I am to serve Vastime in my full capacity I require your aide." The man would lift a gloved hand to his bicep, gripping the remnants of his left arm. As he stared at her, the cold persona of Atlas lifted briefly. The fiery aura of the Warhound of Vastime took it's place, gazing upon her with the utmost belief and conviction.
"I require you to restore my arm, through whatever means needed. If you was to do this, I would owe you a great debt."
Yes, the Duke of Bellum and the highest ranked official par the royalty was asking for a favor.
"Give me the means to serve my nation, once more."