Knight of Vandemar
ACHILLEON UTRAEN
KNIGHT OF VANDEMAR · HOUSE UTRAEN
Heavenheim. His ship had brought him here, a next stop on his journey around the coreworlds. A similar feeling overcame of what he had felt on Onderon, a strange familiarity. Here it was less the atmosphere of the people and more the actual smell. It smelled almost as pure as Vandemar did, untouched, natural, clean. Not clinical, not washed and scrubbed, but untouched. It was almost exciting to set foot on this world and walk among the people of it.
They were tall, strong, reminding him of some of the people on his homeworld, in the provinces of the North. They felt almost like he knew and understood them. It was remarkable. There was still the struggle of Basic and their rather specific accent of it, but Achilleon got around. He had been to the market, purchased some local produce, tasted some local food while walking the streets of the city, bathing in the cold sunlight.
The Vandemarian Knight had pulled back his red-clothed hood, revealing his white hair and face, though keep the cloak around him, both as insulative layer and obscure some of his armour from vision. Not to deceive, but because he believed that he needed not to be seen as a proud warrior prancing about here, he was a visitor, a guest from a land far away and not wishing to offend or disrupt anyone local.
Achilleon's purple gaze looked upon the home of the local ruler, the High King, apparently an elder warrior-prince who was renowned among the coreworlds, both for his battle-prowess and for his wisdom. It drove some amusement to his eyes to see that his liege and this royal shared the coat of arms of a gryph, he wondered if they had heard about each other. Achilleon walked down the cobbled streets until he found a place to seat himself outside, ordering local beverage and desiring to observe and study the local populace. Leaning back in the chair, the Knight crossed his legs, draped his cloak to protect him and sipped from the ale a waitress brought to him.
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