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The man is tall, thin, and built like an athlete trained to sprint. Chin and cheekbones are concealed beneath a well-kempt beard. Features have been weathered by countless campaigns and skirmishes, but soften frequently when in the presence of close associates or blood. A passerby would describe him as ruggedly handsome. No matter his company, he is seldom seen without meticulously maintained platemail and longsword.
Reserved in unfamiliar social circles, but always polite and courteous. Charitable to the helpless and downtrodden and usually the first to speak, or draw a blade, in their defense. Brave and selfless in battle. Fiercely loyal to the Crown and its subjects, no matter their status or positions within. Close associates value his thoughtful advice and describe him as an experienced listener.
How Alantir survived the Tragedy at Sanctum remains to this day a mystery. He has the scars to show for it, of course -- the raised and discolored tissue marring the majority of his bare chest and back. But the memories, beyond crawling from beneath a pile of corpses and burning debris? Hidden behind an impenetrable veil that obfuscates even his unconscious mind from uncovering the truth beneath. He talks about the event rarely, opting instead to busy himself with tasks entrusted to him on behalf of his family and its dignitaries. Outside of this blemish on an otherwise perfect record, he is very much the honor-bound and chivalrous knight one would expect to find bearing the crest of the White Dragon -- though perhaps with a negative predisposition toward the shav'arvani due to the great pain the Abandoned inflicted upon the Valardin psyche.