A tall brass-scaled dragonborn with a broad chest, a squared jaw, and polished amber eyes. He wears chain mail beneath a white tabard marked with a gold sunburst, carries a heavy shield, and keeps a prayer cord wrapped around one wrist. The tips of his horns are worn smooth from years of bowing in temple service.

Measured, compassionate, and unshakably sincere. He listens first, judges second, and acts third, but once he commits to a course he becomes as immovable as a fortress gate.

Born among a stern but honorable dragonborn enclave, he was raised to believe that strength without restraint is merely a better-shaped cruelty. As a hatchling he was sent to a temple that welcomed travelers, where he learned to sweep floors, tend lamps, and memorize prayers before he was trusted with a blade. He discovered early that he admired the patient certainty of the clergy, their way of turning faith into action, feeding the hungry, guarding the weak, and standing watch through the long night. When his draconic temper threatened to flare, the abbess taught him that discipline was not the enemy of passion, but its finest vessel. In time he took vows as an acolyte, not to abandon the world, but to meet it with open hands and a shield raised high. He now travels as a paladin in service to the temple and to the simple conviction that law should protect the innocent, not merely constrain them. He seeks omens in hymns, judges himself harshly, and believes every oath is a bridge between fear and hope. He carries the temple's blessings with him like banked coals, ready to become a fire against tyranny, corruption, and the careless harm of the defenseless.