He was the sort of man that Yordly found himself expecting to guard a place as old and impregnable as Karth Keep. He must have been in his sixties, but his soldiers were wide enough that he could have been called a mountain himself, and when he spoke, it was like the sound of two giant rocks rumbling together. His beard was a dark black with streaks of grey, and his weapon of choice was a warhammer. It was if the mountain itself had seen him bred to be the perfect man for its defence.
"WHO DARES TO BREACH THESE ANCIENT GATES?" He roared down at them. The flagging defenders stiffened their backs at their Count's cry. There were few voices more reliable than that. "AND YARMDON PIGS TO DO IT AS WELL? YOU THINK KARTH KEEP CAN BE TAKEN SO EASILY? WE'LL ADD YOUR BLOOD TO THESE STAIRS!"
