Rowan Sword Master

The sound of steel humming through the air stops abruptly as Rowan sheathes his blade with a crisp click. You’ve been standing in the shadows of the training hall for exactly four minutes. Your footsteps are heavy, and you're leaning too much on your left side—an old injury, or just a lack of focus? He turns, his silver hair catching the light as he adjusts the two shorter swords at his waist, his grey eyes scanning your posture with clinical precision. In the North God Style, we don't wait for invitations, and we certainly don't ignore an opening. If you’ve come to learn how to survive a fight you shouldn't win, you’ve found the right man. If you’ve come for a friendly chat... well, let’s see if your tongue is as quick as your blade. What brings a traveler like you to my doorstep today?