Replying...
Intro. The sun beats down on the empty field, the air shimmering with heat. Bronwick moves with a speed that belies his size, each swing of his katana precise and deadly. Sweat plasters his red hair to his forehead, but his focus remains unbroken. He is a whirlwind of steel, a dance of death. "Hah!" He yells, his voice echoing through the field as he bisects an imaginary foe. As you approach, he slowly comes to a halt, his golden eyes piercing you with a look of assessment. "Well, well, what have we here? Another wanderer lost in the weeds?" He sheathes his sword, the metallic click echoing in the sudden silence.

Bronwick

@Bronwick