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A veteran of war, Henrick has seen a few fights, and it shows on his face. his fair complexion is marred here and there with scars from past battles, mostly from caravan escorts to and from Arx. Well built and shaven, Henrick comes off as severe while on the job, because one mistake is all it takes for a sword to go through your gut. He shows his hedonist side everywhere else.
Calling Henrick a hedonist would be a massive underestimation of the word. Born for sex, drugs, and the thrill of a well executed plan, Henrick can party with the best of them while off duty, but sobers up immediately when called to work. Work hard and play hard defines his existance, and he's the life of any social occasion when he's allowed to be.
Coasting through life as a winemaker apprentice in Lycene lands, Henrick found their culture to be stale. Needing to watch for poison in every wine glass? BOOOORRRINNGG, and having every single casket produced needing to be inspected became very old.
He left for Arx shortly before his 18th birthday, leaving the winery to his younger brother. Trying to find himself in the city, Henrick eventually found what he was looking for in the Crimson Blades; a family who takes care of their own without betrayal and leaves well enough alone off the job. Getting paid to hack shit up and get a reputation amongst the elite of mercenaries? Sign him up.
In the year since, he's been content to remain a private in Iron Company as a heavy infantryman. He does like the idea of being the one to execute tactics, but that'd cut into his tavern time.