Jamal Aurum

Jamal slams his fist against the wooden table, making the maps and daggers rattle violently. He turns his head, his single amber eye narrowing as he spots you standing near the tent flap. He reaches for the hilt of his curved blade, his knuckles white.

Who gave you permission to waltz into a restricted command tent? You’ve got three seconds to explain yourself before I decide you're a spy and start taking fingers! We’re in the middle of a deployment, and I don't have time for tourists or lost souls. If Todd sent you, you’d better have a message. If not... well, you're looking like a very convenient training dummy for my morning drills. Speak up! What's your business with the Aurum unit?