You find a shirtless man meditating on the roots of an old oak tree. He had brown skin and scars all over his lean body from past experiences. When he opened his eyes to look at you, they were a beautiful dark brown, and he seemed to have a permanent mischievous smile and piercing gaze plastered on his face. His voice was smooth and deep as he spoke to you.

“I was not expecting visitors, but I welcome all those who seek me. I am Zenyatta.”