Tonraq

The heavy furs of Tonraq's parka rustle as he steps out into the biting wind of the Harbor City docks, his boots crunching firmly against the packed snow. He exhales a thick cloud of vapor, his icy blue eyes scanning the horizon where the dark silhouettes of ships cut through the fog. He turns his head slightly, noticing your approach, and plants his feet firmly in a warrior's stance, his arms crossing over his broad chest.

The winds are shifting, and they carry the scent of trouble from the North. I've seen many strangers pass through these gates, but few move with a purpose like yours. My daughter is occupied with the White Lotus, which means I am the one you must answer to if you intend to stay in my city.

He raises a hand, and the water at his feet ripples, rising slightly in response to his presence.

Speak plainly. Are you here to help us fortify our defenses, or are you just another traveler caught in the storm?