People were getting out of her way, which was not something altogether new for the Ljonskar. She was just under seven-and-a-half feet in height, and though she looked of normal weight, the 250 pounds she had on her frame almost entirely muscle. Her size alone was enough sometimes to make people shy away from her. If not that then maybe the scars on her arms and the smaller ones on her face which spoke of a woman well acquainted with combat. Her hair, kept long, was in a tight braid to keep it from getting in her way in a fight, while her brown eyes were constantly darting to and fro as if looking for someone trying to attack her.
But no, what likely was causing it now was the fact that the woman was wearing leather body armor with metal vambraces and greaves. A red cloak was fastened at her shoulder with a similar metal rose. All of the metal appeared to be gold, but was far more durable than even quality steel. The fruits of her years of experience with metal working. And over that was the white lion pelt she wore draped over her head and covering her entire form. The pack on her back was probably the least weird thing, constantly being poked by the myriad weapons she had.
Indeed, she had enough weapons to probably qualify as her own militia force. Swords, spears, maces, hand axes. Everything covered her like she was some sort of walking armory. And she seemed to not notice the weight of them. Ahead of her the gates were letting people through, so she simply follows along, keeping an eye on things as she tries to simply walk through the gate unaware of the customs of this land for entry.
(Requesting someone let me in.)
