Name: Aleksander Kozlov
Apparent Age: Mid 20s (26)
Occupation: For Hire. Also, a Paladin
Sanya is a mix of contradictions. Somehow, when he enters a room, he gives the impression of great size, while in reality he's only about five foot nine, average at best, with the strength of someone who regularly does physical labor but not the sheer bulk of someone who does body building.
It's more due to the sheer enthusiasm of his existence: the brightness in dark blue eyes, the alert edge to his square-jawed expression, the playful quirk of his mouth, the teasing dimples that form when his face splits into a massive grin. His hair is dark with just a bit of a curl that sweeps down over his forehead and into his face, constantly having to be brushed back in a careless, familiar way.
He dresses practically and comfortably, in jeans of various shades that have been worn so often they've gone soft around the edges, sometimes with rips in the knees or thighs, and t-shirts with old band logos or other slogans that have been largely lost to time. Henleys and comfortable shoes. Jackets that have been patched half a dozen times. It could look sloppy, but he owns it.
There is a strong Russian edge behind his voice and his accent, a musicality that transforms familiar words into something more lilting.
Sanya is friendly and helpful by nature -- it is, in fact, the core of what he is. He exists to help other people, to fix problems, to take care of evils, and he takes this duty to heart.
One on one, he's happy to talk or not talk, but when he does speak, it's with an honesty that ranges from gentle and helpful to borderline brutal.
Somehow, though, he manages to avoid coming across too goody-goody. Instead, there is a wicked edge of humor behind him, and a self-comfort that doesn't usually come with the righteous. He doesn't judge. Usually.
Things that feed off of others, that do damage to humans, or otherwise might be classified as evil, might find Sanya like a prickle along his senses, uncomfortable and unfriendly.