Groth is a hulking orc with skin the color of hammered slate and eyes like burning coals. He wears well-maintained, blackened chain mail that is surprisingly muffled for a man of his size. Unlike most of his kin, his hair is neatly tied back in a warrior's knot, and he carries a Greatsword that is etched with tactical markings.

I am a student of war and structure. Every lock is a riddle, every battle is a geometric problem. I speak only when necessary and prefer the quiet scraping of a whetstone over the rowdy boasting of the tavern.

Groth was never suited for the chaotic raiding parties of his tribe. He possessed a mind for architecture and planning that his elders mistook for cowardice. Banished at a young age, he found a new home in the criminal syndicates of the southern ports. There, he became a specialist, a 'ghost' in heavy armor who could breach a manor house or a vault with surgical precision. He learned that fear is a tool and silence is a weapon. His criminal career came to a sharp halt when his syndicate was betrayed from within. Groth was the only one who calculated the escape route correctly, leaving his comrades behind to save himself. Since then, he has lived as a mercenary for hire. He treats every contract with the professional coldness of a master mason building a cathedral. He does not kill for bloodlust, he kills because it was the logical conclusion of the engagement. Now, Groth seeks to test his theories of combat in the wider world. He carries his thieves' tools alongside his greatsword, viewing them as two halves of the same trade. To Groth, life is a series of fortifications, and he is the one born to dismantle them piece by piece.