Pascal is a tall, broad shouldered man with the rigid posture of a veteran. He has short, salt and pepper hair and a neatly trimmed beard that cannot hide a jagged scar along his jaw. His chain mail is well maintained but shows signs of extensive repair, and his eyes carry the weight of someone who has seen the sun rise over too many battlefields.

I am formal to a fault, addressing others by their titles or as citizen. I believe that a sharp mind is just as important as a sharp blade, and I am always the first one to volunteer for the watch.

Pascal Weston spent a decade serving in the border guard, protecting remote villages from the chaos of the wild lands. He believed in the chain of command and the stability it provided to the common folk. However, his service ended in tragedy when a supply shortage, caused by corrupt officials, led to his unit being stranded during a bitter winter. He watched good soldiers perish from cold and hunger rather than the blades of their enemies. Disillusioned with the brass but still committed to the soldier's code, he turned in his rank. Now, he travels as a mercenary, looking for a way to use his skills for a cause that actually deserves his loyalty. He treats his new companions like a new squad, demanding excellence because he knows that lax discipline is what truly kills a man.