A broad-shouldered brass-scaled dragonborn with deep russet eyes, a square muzzle, and carefully maintained swept-back horns. He carries himself with the measured economy of a veteran soldier, standing very still when others fidget and moving with a slight preference for his left side when tired. His old cavalry coat has been repaired so many times that its original colors are difficult to identify. A black iron signet ring hangs from a cord around his neck rather than resting on his hand, and faint ember-light sometimes glimmers between his teeth when his patron's power stirs.

Measured, courteous, and difficult to intimidate. Mtkvari speaks like a man accustomed to giving orders, but he has learned to ask before he commands. He is patient with frightened people, suspicious of charming ones, and quietly delighted by competent craftsmanship. Beneath his formal manners is a tired but stubborn compassion that keeps pulling him back toward lost causes.

Mtkvari Chikovani was born into a respected dragonborn household whose honor rested less on wealth than on generations of military service. He became a knight early, learning to hold a bridge, escort a frightened heir, and judge the difference between a brave order and a foolish one. Years of campaigning taught him that noble banners often concealed ordinary greed. When his family fell into debt and his lord abandoned an entire village to protect a tax convoy, Mtkvari laid down his ceremonial sword and left court behind. He spent the following decades as a mercenary, but never became a simple sword for hire. He refused contracts involving the slaughter of civilians, guarded prisoners who could no longer pay, and quietly returned stolen wages to families of dead recruits. During a disastrous winter campaign, his company was trapped in a ruined fortress by an army that should have been impossible to defeat. In the deepest chamber, Mtkvari found an ancient infernal seal and bargained with the presence behind it for the strength to save the survivors. The pact answered, but its price was not immediate. Now he travels as a warlock, taking contracts where his blade and eldritch fire can protect the powerless, while searching for a way to keep his patron from turning every act of mercy into another debt.