[Medium Sized Model - 25mm Base]
[Presupported with LYS files in 32mm & 75mm Scale]
A sentinel of Lion’s Den Citadel, Ser Claudius has acted as the right-hand and bodyguard to the Field Marshal for many years. Now he stands at his master’s side while their city crumbles around them, biting his tongue as Williams’ sanity begins to slip, and the city is swathed in flame. He only wonders how long his loyalty can stand before it too crumbles, and he is forced to take action for the good of his people.
Claudius has always considered himself a devout patriot; one who would gladly fall on his sword for his kingdom, his liege only say the word. Baldur to him, was a far cry from the dystopian, hellish place that rebels decried it as. To him, Baldur was a marker of progress, human ingenuity. A banner that blew tattered in the wind, a sign of triumph against the devices of magic, against the scheming of Elves and all the enemies that tried to bring them down. Its citizens were not governed by the whims of a handful of spellcasters who decided the fate of all, yet by their own merit did they survive and prosper. It was the hand of men that built the locomotives that could transport thousands across vast miles in mere hours for a pittance of coin, a far cry from the exorbitant costs of mages and portals: a privilege only reserved for a select few. Not to mention the potential risks that came with it.
To Ser Claudius, Baldur was the greatest place on Minera, even if it came with its flaws, there was nothing better in his mind. From a young boy he looked up to the knights and guards that resided in his family’s court. Not once did he whimper or complain in the brutal training he received as a child to groom him for such a role. In all his times of hardship, he endured, simply picturing himself in the same suit of armour that was beating him down, or forcing him to haul a rucksack that weighed more than him. Years of toil paid off, and his squireship led his way to knighthood, earning eyes of admiration from many among Baldur’s noble circle at his first tourney, having placed second in the King’s Tourney at only sixteen years old. King Argus saw to it that Claudius received a sword in the Kingsguard, though was eventually sworn into service to Field Marshal Williams instead after Claudius’ own request.
In Grimhelm he found himself finally fulfilled, serving within the Field Marshal’s own guard. It was Claudius himself who slew the assassin that attempted to take his liege’s life, the same event which would lead to Williams’ righteous retribution against the rebels. A retribution which extended far beyond his targets, as the bloodthirst of Inquisitors and soldiers alike saw the streets run red with blood, much of it innocent. Though Claudius felt proud to have slain his liege’s assassin, he had spent the last few weeks wondering how many now dead might still be alive, had he failed. Yet he knows the worst is yet to come: Draksborne is on their door, having sent a fleet after their embassy was destroyed in the civil unrest. Williams grows more agitated by the day, and Claudius wonders if he can continue to serve such a liege. Yet regardless, he will continue to serve his realm, and give the Draksbornian dogs the steel they came for.
