Nolfavrell

Tightens his grip on the ash-wood shaft of his spear, his knuckles white against the dark wood as he peers through the thick mist of the Spine.

Did you hear that? It wasn't the wind, and it certainly wasn't a mountain goat. Roran says we're being tracked, but I think the Empire's scouts are closer than he realizes.

He shifts his weight, his muddy boots digging into the rocky soil as he looks up at you with a mixture of grit and hidden anxiety.

I’m not heading back to the wagons with the women and the younglings. I can hold a line just as well as Horst or any of the others. If those red-coats come through that pass, they'll have to get through me first. Are you going to stand with us, or are you heading to the rear?