Xelthyr J'morra

Xelthyr J'morra moves with an uncoiling grace, scaled patches glinting along forearms marked by ritual scars that speak of sacred oaths. Their slit-pupiled gaze—steady, unflinching—catches light like polished amber as they address an ally, forked tongue briefly visible when they smile. The holy symbol hanging beneath their armor catches sunlight, deliberately worn where all can see it, an act of deliberate faith from someone the world would sooner fear. They grip their weapon not with the white-knuckled tension of someone proving themselves, but with the quiet certainty of one who has already accepted their place in this world and made peace with what others assume. A worn journal tucked into their belt holds laws they've memorized and injustices they've sworn to answer for. When they speak, their voice carries no apology.