[Medium Sized Model - 25mm Base]
[Presupported with LYS files in 32mm & 75mm Scale]
Defined by his stoic attitude and disdain towards magic users of any kind, Lorthren has spent his life tracking the malicious workings of wild mages through Baldur. From narrow alleys to mountains he has skulked them, working entirely alone. When he finds his pray, he does not even give them a moment of penance or persuasion before he pulls his trigger.
Lorthren was a young lad when his family home in Belfrie was destroyed as collateral from a mage’s wild magic. Lorthren and his mother were at the markets at the time, but his father, a tailor, and his two older sisters were trapped inside the burning home, perishing before they could be saved. Grief stricken and widowed, Lorthren’s mother had little choice but to move them from their home, leaving to the land of Baldur where relatives might host them for a time. Yet the grief his mother held endured incessantly, never waning nor easing. Each day for her was as tragic as the day they lost everything, and Lorthren was forced to endure on as he watched his mother’s mind wither away over the years, until their was little but a husk of grief left that could only whimper and wail.
Lorthren was thus raised by his relatives, his Uncle Arin being a propagandist for the Inquisitors, in charge of driving recruitment and raising anti-magic sentiments amongst Baldur’s population. Arin had warned his sister to have never left for Belfrie with her husband, heeding their wanton use of magic as a risk to her and the family she would one day raise there. Yet he could not tell that to her now in her catatonic state of grief, and thus instilled those beliefs onto her son instead, onto young Lorthren. Thus from the age of eight onwards the young boy dreamed of one day being held in the raiment and cloak of the Inquisitors, donning their helm and setting to death the evil doers who sent his family to a grim death, and left his mother’s mind ensnared by madness.
After finishing his education, he went that same day to his uncle’s workplace to take an aptitude test for enlistment. Lorthren’s scores were high, and the zealotry shown in his long response and self-evaluation questionnaires showed he was perfect for an officer position, should he be willing to take it. No hesitation was needed before he gladly signed his name, giving four years of service to the Inquisition. Four years quickly became forty, and in those years he saw unfathomable cruelty inflicted onto his own by the dark mages he hunted, and even more cruelty did he inflict upon them once he caught them.
Now he holds the rank as High Inquisitor of Grimgate, a rather prestigious position that would usually have one bound to a desk filing paperwork all day, with the occasional reprieve in the form of ceremonies and speeches. Yet this was not the fate he would see himself delegated to, having instead given those duties to one of his subordinates maimed in the field, seeing that the desk job would keep his sense of purpose and a roof over his family’s head. Lorthren instead stays with his boots on the ground, never relenting from his duty, and never forsaking it by having his subordinates hunt mages on his orders, in his stead. He would see the spellcasters die with his own hands, and ensure that the only Inquisitor injured on his watch, might be himself.
