Two Rivers Isle glory in battle, honor in life

oh, it was not a terrible post. i rather enjoyed it.

The northern ice had made him a fearless fighter. He had been forged in the very chilling depths of Jorrvaskr with stone and stinging waters. Kodlak did not fear the fang of another, nor did he turn away from the prospect of crossing paths with one who was not favorable to him. There was boldness in the Whitemane blood. They were not the type to cow to an adversary, no matter the odds. The Nordic warrior did note how she peered at him with a watchful glint in her sharp salmon colored gaze. In doing this, Kodlak lowered his skull into a customary bow that granted him less of a frightful appearance. There was not intention to frighten her, but he would not hail her again if she chose to flee.
 
“Greetings icy maiden,” he offered to her in a soft baritone. The swelling sea foam of his gaze did not leave her shape, for he was not foolish enough to leave himself unprepared in the face of a stranger. Kodlak saw her expression, wrought with concern, and he offered her a smile that toyed along the edges of his lips just enough to break through the grizzled appearance. The land had shaped him into a creature of power; a brute among his own kind. The Nord still had his manners and his customs at his back.