Baruk
The half-Orc coated head to toe in glistening rimefire plate armor which dances with hints of red and blue magic, stands with his hands on his hips glaring at the foutain. His greenish-brown hair is short cut, and his fierce eyes look like they're trying to melt the fountain with their intensity. This is why I hate this plane, sometimes. Irelia, grant me your eternal patience... he mutters, his gauntleted hand touching the rose tucked into his belt as he does so. I think I see why Gruumsh and Corellon never got along... he thinks.