The White Armor Knight, Davster
The instant the wounded man in the center of the lobby realized Andrew's presence, his countenance changed instantly. He lifted his chin haughtily, cocked his nose and, consequently, his eyes, and let his dreadlocks fall back. This was Davster Herond, a noted and respected warrior of the Royal Guard, but he did not know Andrew, nor did Andrew know him.
Davster's imposing figure matched his black skin, which stood out even more in contrast to the white armor he wore, which by the way was flawless, showing his fearless devotion to the kingdom.
The shining armor reflected the dim light of the incoming moon, highlighting every meticulously crafted detail. An imposing sword rested in his steady hands, a natural extension of his commitment to honor. His serious eyes conveyed the determination that dwelt in his heart, a tireless guardian of the people he was sworn to protect, and consequently one that made any kind of enemy fear for his life before him.