They moved through out the land like dark ghosts; silent despite their size. They were mirror images in all but the scars. Some of his scars were hidden underneath the jet thickness of his coat, while others refused to sit quietly in the background. The ones on his chest demanded the most attention, centered over his heart like someone wanted to rip the organ out. Knowing him and his list of enemies, many probably do want to take his heart out and show it to him as he bled out. While this might be a cause of considerable concern for some, for Uilleam, it was simply another day. He liked to fight; and would pick fights if he was in an especially bad mood, and probably had enemies that could make an army. Combine that with Baltair's list, and the odds did not look in their favor. The enemies favor that is. The twins always seemed to fight better when backed into a corner. Especially Uilleam, who seemed to thrive on battle.

After what happened to their family, he'd blamed himself, even though he was just a pup. He grew to be mean and untrusting of all but Baltair. He was extremely protective of his identical twin, willing to rip anyone's throat out for him. After all, Baltair was all he had. The only remnant of a family he barely remembered some days. Fighting was what he lived for. Whether it be his own war or a war he'd joined for the sake of joining; he fought with all he had.

Uilleam was huge, much like his brother, both topping out at 42 inches and 200 pounds. Among the ranks of giants that roamed Moladion. He ]was made of muscle, muscle, and more muscle, honed and built from years of fighting. Don't mistake his bulk for slowness though; he was capable of high speeds whenever he felt like it. Just because he was a behemoth did not mean he was slow and bulky. No, he was still fast and agile as any mercenary.

They were walking the Crags, exploring the new land when they came upon her. She was a little thing, all white and tiny. She was beautiful though, Will observed. Gorgeous even. He'd be damned if he'd ever admit it, though. Besides, she was so small she'd probably have a heart attack at the sight of them, of his scars. And here he thought his day would be less then eventful. "Hello," He called, a gruff and customary greeting. He had a brogue, the twins being Scottish through and through. They even spoke Gaelic; the language they still used when conversing with each other more often than not. He didn't know what else to say so he let the word hang in the air. His brother was much better with females, and social situations in general, so he'd figure he'd just leave most of the talking to him.

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NO HEART - NO SOUL - NO BAIRNS - NO HOME