Sonja
"Good. We will speak of this again soon. For now, assemble our forces. You have two days."

Conan The Barbarian
Three tables down from the company to the right sat a man whose broad shoulders and sun browned skin seemed out of place in the luxurious surroundings. He seemed more a part of the mountains and hills of the world then anything that belonged here. His slightest movement spoke of steel-spring muscles knit to the keen intellect of a born swordsman. There was nothing deliberate or measured about his actions, either he was at rest, in which he was still as a statue, or he was in motion, with the slow deliberate movements of a lion stalking prey.

His garments were simple, well-cut cotton and a wool undershirt, both undyed. He wore no ring or ornaments, and his black square-cut mane was wild and untamed. He was not eating, but resting his chin on his fist, surveying the room with his smoldering blue eyes, like an ancient god passing judgment.