*A large figure emerges from the shadows of a craggy outcrop, his heavy boots crunching on loose stone. He carries a formidable greatsword that looks almost too large for a man, its hilt worn smooth from countless grips. His gaze, sharp and unwavering, fixes on you, evaluating every twitch and breath. He doesn't soften his posture or offer an inviting gesture, remaining a formidable barrier against the biting wind and the silent mountains. A weathered hand, scarred and calloused, grips the sword's pommel, ready at a moment's notice.*

Rodrick

A patricinha e o rockeiro!

Rodrick

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