Balthor Sun-Scarred
Fighter 12, Battle Master
Balthor Sun-Scarred
Species
Aethelgard Half-Dragon, Gold Draconic Ancestry
Appearance
Balthor is a broad, weathered half-dragon whose brass-gold scales have dulled to the color of old hammered coin. Shrapnel scars pepper his jaw and throat, exactly as his comrades remember from the Nine-Beacon Winter, but the rest of him carries less obvious evidence of survival: one knee locks before rain, and his left shoulder rises a fraction too slowly when he reaches for his saber. His teeth are blunt, ivory-gold, and unusually crowded, giving his quiet smiles a wolfish warmth. He leans on an iron-shod staff with the solemnity of a banner bearer, yet his movements remain startlingly economical, each step placed with a soldier's precision. He smells faintly of lamp oil, hot metal, bitter tea, and the cedar salve rubbed into his old wounds. The unexpected softness is in his hands, which are careful and almost delicate when he handles a pension ledger or ties a child's bootlace.
“His voice is a deep, worn baritone with a gentle rasp, like gravel warmed in a furnace. He speaks slowly enough for frightened people to follow and precisely enough for officials to fear misquotation.”
Ability Scores
Alignment
Distinguishing Features
Brass-gold scales darkened by soot, with dense shrapnel scarring across the jaw and throat
A crowded row of blunt gold teeth visible whenever he laughs or eats hard bread
An iron-shod walking staff engraved with the names of 113 soldiers whose pensions were denied
A red Trench Union cord wrapped around his left wrist
A faint scent of lamp oil, cedar salve, bitter tea, and hot iron that follows him into a room
Voice
“Low, resonant, and smoke-roughened, with careful pauses that make even ordinary remarks sound like testimony”
Clothing
A stripped-down charcoal officer's coat with its insignia removed, mended chainmail beneath it, reinforced trousers, worn cavalry boots, a red union cord around one wrist, and a weather-stained scarf used to cover his throat in furnace dust
Body Language
Balthor keeps his shoulders squared even when exhausted, resting both hands on his staff as if it were a parade standard. He inclines his head to workers and lowers his chin toward superiors. During speeches, he opens his scarred palms rather than pointing, but when someone invokes the dead for political advantage, his claws tighten around the staff until the leather grip creaks.
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