[center][h1][color=00aeef][b]Jakorion Fraustous[/b][/color][/h1][/center]

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A thundering clunk can be heard as it takes its first step upon the old wooden bridge that leads to the ominous castle beyond the great mist. The armored man looks up with his glowing cold blue eyes as he stands silently for a minute. The infamous Jakorion Fraustous had indeed travelled far in order to reach here. He comes from the far north, where the snow falls all year round, where the tundra never seems to melt, and where the biggest, baddest, and brutish warriors push their mettle to battle against the elements. This is the realm of Glacienda, and Jakorion rules that very land with an iron fist. He had trekked hundreds of miles through the harsh ever-winter conditions and even through the dreary wastelands of where the once rich and lustrous countryside had turned bleak and grey after Camelot fell.

The letter that the cold-hearted barbarian received was an... interesting one at best. At first, he didn't trust the letter and even then he was never fond of making new friends and allies. Of course, his god, Morlinda, basically forced him to go, simply for the fact that maybe having some allies wouldn't quite kill him. And now he's right at Camelot's doorstep, a once bustling city of order now reduced to a simple town conquered by fierce discord and chaos...

Just the way he likes it.

Jakorion begins walking across the bridge all the way until he reaches the front doors. Opening them with a heavy heave, the clanging of hard wood across the rocky cobblestone walls can be heard all the way to the dining hall, where everyone was at. Clearly the brutish warrior wasn't the biggest fan of polite manners, at least as a first impression. As he approaches the table, he takes a quick look at his surroundings. The castle is rather large and looked almost church-like. This place must've looked disgustingly bright during Camelot's golden ages but now that they've fallen, it looks darker and more glum. Perhaps it looks better this way, in the case of representing the harsh life of the world today, or the fact that fanciness to him was almost meaningless to him. 

As the large warrior approaches one of the seats at the long table, he sees a lavish feast laid down upon him. While the concept of fancy architecture bores him, fancy and rich food on the other hand was a completely different story. After all, food like this can keep one's stomach full for days, maybe even weeks. Personally, Jakorion doesn't eat that much, at least since being resurrected by Morlinda, but there are times where a man like him has got to eat. It's only then when he realizes the rest of the people in the room. There's indeed variety in here, while most being humans, there are some persons that looked rather different-looking, from a lycan mage, to a short-stack goblin, to even a giant beastkin. But being the anti-social warrior that he is, he simply says nothing as he takes his seat and waits for the host to arrive and give them the goods.