Thryndal Vossgryn

Thryndal Vossgryn keeps his broad gnome smile for later, then rubs chalk dust off his prodigious nose before every spar. His forearms are corded from monk drills on cobbles, but his belt is always half tools: tiny calipers, a spring latch, one half-built wind-up charm he swears will work “this time.” When trouble turns to illusions, he claps his palms twice—counting breaths—then fights the real threat.