Sigeric Ratyasch

Evening light washes over New Gridania like a golden blanket, suffusing the delicately carved wooden buildings with warmth. Autumn’s chill causes the breath of passersby to steam into the air and the smell of fresh baked bread and broiling meat mingles with market spices and the earthy musk of decomposing leaves.

Seated upon a bench next to the aetheryte sits a Hrothgar, his eyes pinched closed in a blissful expression as he flares his nostrils and basks in the scents mingling around him. His features are angular and lion-like, his square jaw accentuated with a short beard the same texture as his mane of hair. Black-tipped ears atop his head remain perked as he slowly opens mirth-filled gold eyes and breathes out a contented sigh.

Despite the cool air he is dressed in light blue fabrics, and his only salve against the cold is the steaming mug of cider he raises to his lips to drink from, steam fogging his glasses in the process. It’s likely the dense layer of snow-white fur that keeps him warm and it’s nearly blinding to look at in the radiant glow of the sunset.

A thick leather tome is perched on one of his thighs, and after finishing a dreg from his mug he returns to writing on the hand-bound pages with a pen. He spends a moment squinting until the steam clears from the bottom of his glasses. His lips move as he mutters the words to himself, drawing attention to the scars crossing the right side of his face. Despite the scholarly clothes and demeanor his build belies a warrior’s nature. Wide muscled shoulders, a barrel-thick chest and muscular thighs all communicate physical prowess.

As his pen reaches the bottom of the page, the hrothgar leans forward, scrawling as close to the margin as possible before finally turning the page. Ink stains the pads of his paw-like hands, and as he starts to sketch the scene around him the side of his hand turns a matching shade of blue-gray.