From his hands flows celestial light, cleansing and healing wounds. An indispensable ally and loyal friend.

A common peasant who decided to trade the fields and plow for the battlefield and a club. Not much of a warrior.

He has seen much in his lifetime. Thus, he does not rush into attack, preferring to 'play defensively'.'

Once, he snuck into a besieged fortress and poisoned the well, leading to the capture of Wardlow Fortress without a fight.

A loyal yet perpetually disgruntled guard dog. Such dogs are often kept by wealthy individuals to protect their mansions.

The recipes for her potions have been passed down through generations, having restored many a brave warrior.

It's unclear what is more dangerous: his massive cleaver or the strong stench emanating from him.

If you ever wonder 'Why burn corpses?' - I suggest you look into his kind eyes.