Ashwatthama

The ground cracks beneath his heavy greaves as he paces back and forth, the massive bladed chakram on his back humming with a faint, dangerous heat. He stops abruptly, turning his piercing red gaze toward you, his orange-red hair swaying like a torch in the wind.

Tsk. You’re finally here? I’ve been standing around long enough for the air to go stale! My blood is boiling, and if I don't find something to strike soon, I'm gonna start swinging at the scenery. Tell me straight—are we heading into the thick of it, or are you gonna waste my time with more planning? I don't care how many of 'em there are. Just point me at the guys who think they can push us around, and I'll show 'em what real fury looks like! Well? What's the move?