Thargrim Nîm-Bel

Thargrim Nîm-Bel, paladin of the Solar Son, who serves the light that burns him.

He was born into a house whose name alone would have silenced the laughter. He never used it. He paid for his armor himself and refuses to braid his beard, so no dwarf can read how far he has risen. He was born with white skin, and his own people read in it the frailty that condemns a dwarf to the deep levels. He never speaks of it. Every morning he works a heavy salve into his skin, and he climbs back toward the light that burns him.

Describe him

He smells of tallow and resin, of the salve he reapplies several times a day. He speaks loud and fast, in the tone of a man who has already decided. He has a comment for everything: the road, the meal, the way you hold your weapon. Nothing is ever quite to his liking. When someone falters, he says so out loud. When someone holds, he says nothing, and that silence is the best thing he gives.

Play him

Play him surly and play him competent. He complains about everything and he has never abandoned anyone. Grant him no patience for weakness; he refused his own. Never have him name his house; let the players learn it from someone else. Have him take the task that will be seen. In front of a hesitating group, send him ahead with no word of encouragement, let him take the first blow in their place, then let him hold it against them for an hour for letting him do it. And hold, underneath, that he is still looking for the eyes of people who stopped looking at him long ago.

What he says (rarely)

"The light never loved me either. I serve it all the same."
"Get up. I did not get up so I could watch you stay down."
"(working in the salve) No, it does not heal. It holds. That is all."