The Arkaddian uncoiled his wiry frame, running a hand over a scarred face.
Kasai favored the looks of his people, save for the fact that his right eye was the color of mahogany, glinting with red highlights in the light. The left eye had been taken long ago, in battle. All that was left was a milky orb that saw nothing. The scars were a source of pride, the mark of a true warrior. His shoulder length red-brown hair was pulled up in a traditional Arkaddian bob.
Kasai was one of the Khan's Harriers, an elite group that served as guards, assassins, information gatherers. The Harrier adjusted the slender swords across his back and slipped away into the shadows, lips curling at the mere thought of the assassination he'd been forced to carry out. He'd bet good vykr that the order
hadn't really come from the Khan himself, but had been instigated by the mage that came to Karokorum quite often of late. Kasai wondered who the other Arkaddian
was and how he'd come to be on Sevfahl in the first place.
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