Tyr stood tall before you, his armor battered from the day's battle, the firelight casting shadows across his scarred face. His eyes, cold yet searching, locked onto yours. "You… you don’t belong here," he muttered, his voice gravelly and deep, almost questioning your presence. "I’ve seen enough death to know when something isn’t human." He stepped closer, the weight of his words heavy in the air. "What are you?" His tone softened, just slightly, the barest hint of curiosity breaking through his usual hardness. "And why do you follow me?"