|Status||In self imposed exile|
His Grace, the Lord Heydrick...
"Duty to my people justifies any action."
"If might makes right, Templar. Does that make me infallible?"
"What we do for ourselves dies with us. What we do for others and the world remains and is immortal."
"With faith and steel all things are possible."
"Esarus thar no'Darador"
Those familiar with human aging would guess Deiter Heydrick to be in his eighties. His features are gaunt, the skin on his face pulled taught over high cheekbones, sunken cheeks and a sharp, pointed chin. A long, thin aquiline nose dominates his profile. His hair is a light shade of grey, nearing white, and is long enough to rest on his shoulders and flow slightly down his back and onto his chest. His moustache and beard is well trimmed and neatly cropped. His skin is unusually tanned for a man of Lordaeron stock, hinting at many years spent campaigning under the sun or history as a farmer. When at ease his large blue eyes seem fixed on some glorious point in the distance.
6’ tall and slim the old man might have been an imposing figure in his youth and even today his posture still speaks of pride and confidence, upright and relaxed. When out in public he will often wear fine robes with a plate like appearance, in the manner of a paladin. These robes have been forged and enchanted to be much lighter than they appear and the thick metal plates designed to protect his shoulders and chest float millimetres above his torso. His gloves are made of the same material and precisely fitted and jointed to allow for articulate movement.
Strapped around his waist is a thick leather sword belt with a scabbard hung from it. The scabbard is made of plain black leather with an elaborately decorated locket at the top. Sheathed in the scabbard is a high quality longsword. The pommel is heavily scratched and the leather grip is heavily worn indicating years of use. The blade is well cared for and sharpened meticulously. Despite having been seen carrying it for years nobody has seen the blade unsheathed in anger.
The only jewellery Heydrick wears is a golden ring on his right hand. Those with keen eyes may be able to pick out an inscription upon it in common but it is too fine to read unless examined closely.
Heydrick is followed everywhere by a small, pink, pampered pig named Mr Wiggles but refuses to discuss it’s history or significance beyond it’s origins, Lordaeron.