Myrthak Valsen

Myrthak cuts an unusual figure for a paladin—barely four feet tall, his brown quills bristling whenever conviction grips him, which is often. Beneath scarred plate armor, the soft fur of his underbelly shows the wear of genuine service rather than pageantry. His clawed fingers, callused from decades of swordwork, rest with surprising gentleness on his blade's hilt; he draws it only when others have exhausted gentler solutions. A knotted scar runs from his left eye to his snout—a reminder that mercy shown to enemies once cost him dearly, yet his dark eyes hold no bitterness, only the steady resolve of someone who'd make the same choice again. He carries a battered journal bound in leather, its pages filled with names of those he's helped, compelled by something deeper than duty to keep faith with the forgotten.