He is a member of the Enchelei.
Despite his age, he's still renowned for his martial prowess.
A large bear of a man stood in the middle. His beard and hair might have been white, but he still moved with a ponderous power that bespoke years in armor. At some point, someone had broken his nose and, at another, had given him a long scar that ran up the back of his right wrist and into his sleeve. He clearly preferred coats of scaled steel to tunics of linen. His left hand rested on a long, curved dagger that hung across his body. He may not have grown up with the dagger like I had with my sax, but I recognized his need to have steel about him.
- A Lake Most Deep