Godric
Broad and muscular with a balding head and rough features, if you saw this man in a tavern, you’d take him for the local bully.
A greatsword rises over his shoulder, and a leather pack hangs from a strap slung across his worn breastplate.
He scans the line of guardsmen through his remaining eye, waiting for one brave enough to answer the call.
“You do not fight for yourself; you do not kill out of fear. Everything you do, you do for them — to buy them time, to keep them safe."