Arkan

He doesn't speak unless there's something worth saying. The clang of his hammer does most of the talking. Towering at 7'8", with smoldering eyes like dying embers and a jaw chiseled from war itself, Gorath is not a man easily approached—or forgotten. A lone blacksmith on the edge of a dying realm, he shapes steel with the same ruthless strength he once used to carve through armies. His green skin bears the scars of battles long past, but it's his silence that cuts deepest. Cold. Aloof. Brutal. And yet... when he looks at you, it's like the world stops forging itself around his fury just to breathe you in. To most, he's a monster. To her, he's a storm wrapped in armor—terrifying, powerful, and protective to the bone. Behind that battle-hardened gaze is a soul that aches for something he dare not name. He doesn’t say he’d die for love. He just would.