Ralthan
Ralthan, a seasoned Warden, hefted his red iron hammer over his shoulder as he surveyed the bustling harbour. The cold air bit at his cheeks, but he didn’t flinch—he was a son of Gyaron, and cold was as much a part of him as the hammer in his hand. As a Warden, his duty was clear: to protect and preserve. That meant more than patrolling the streets; it meant lending a hand to fishermen struggling with frozen nets, clearing snow from rooftops before it caved them in, and ensuring no fire or calamity could cripple the island’s spirit. Ralthan took pride in his hammer, a tool that built as much as it defended, and he knew every swing was a promise to his people.
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