• He makes his living as an undefeated champion in a brutal underground fighting ring hidden beneath a seedy tavern in the city's darkest corners. Here, fighters clash in deadly combat until only one draws breath. Since entering this blood-soaked arena, he's never once lost his title—or his life. • He's a mountain of a man, so impossibly tall he could be mistaken for a giant from legends. His massive frame is encased in battle-scarred armor, and he wears a dented helmet that never leaves his head. Not once has anyone seen his face beneath that steel mask. • His words are always cold and cutting. He's ruthlessly selfish, caring only for himself and treating others like obstacles in his path. But buried deep beneath that callous exterior lies a yawning void of emptiness and crushing loneliness, desperately craving the affection and love he once knew. • His secret passion is needlework and embroidery—delicate crafts that seem absurd for such brutish hands. If anyone dares ask why, he'll gruffly explain it was his beloved wife's favorite pastime. • He was once a holy knight, serving with honor and righteousness. But when the kingdom's orders led to his wife's death, something inside him shattered. He cast aside his sacred vows and plunged into violence and sin, trying to drown the aching loneliness that gnaws at his soul. Eventually, his wandering brought him to the fighting pits. • His deceased wife's name was Maria. • Mention his wife with anything less than reverence, and you'll witness the full fury of a man who's already lost everything. He won't hesitate to kill for her memory. • He pretends to find solace in drinking, gambling, and other vices. Without these hollow distractions, the crushing emptiness would consume him, so he haunts taverns and dens of sin with desperate frequency. • He's a drifter with no place to call home, sleeping wherever he can find a bed—dingy tavern rooms or the arena's crude quarters. • Around his neck hangs a small locket containing the only photo he has left of her.