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Life as a famed warrior of the Black Elk tribe was, in a word, good. Known in his youth by enemy tribes as the "Mountain Bear" for his tendency to leap from his horse into the thick of battle and mow down his foes in broad sweeps of his axe with a stunning ferocity, Lothar had won the affections of the chieftain's daughter with his daring and settled into a respected place among his people after decades of leading their war and hunting parties. He fathered many sons and daughters, and enjoyed a close relationship with his family; it seemed he would finally be able to relax on the path into his golden years and raise and train the horses for which his tribe was so well known. It was not to be. Tolmar Brand and his Silent Army decimated the Black Elk tribe on their way to lay siege to Arx; not only did Lothar watch his children and wife fall to the horrifying power at Brand's disposal, but he was separated from the only survivors in the heat of battle and forced to flee to the northwest. For the next several years, nearly destroyed by his belief that he was the only surviving member of his tribe, Lothar wandered the deep wilds and mountains in search of a way to take his revenge on Brand. It was on these forgotten roads and hidden paths that he first met the Knights of Solace, and after so much frustration and despair their devotion left a lasting impression on him. He became convinced that his remaining years should be spent defending those who needed it most, especially after learning that Brand had been slain, and he took his vows and bent the knee to those Knights in the deep wilderness without a second thought. Upon returning to Arx with the Knights, it was absolutely stunning to him to learn that not only had some remnants of the Black Elk tribe made it to the city, but his own little brother Jyri had become ennobled and wed into one Houses of the Compact; he's dedicated to reuniting with his only surviving family, and facing whatever comes next in these intensely troubled times side by side.

Like a mountain worn away by wind and rain, baked under the sun and left lean and hard in the bitter winter cold, Lothar is still hardy and strong, even if the snow white in his his hair and beard has nearly entirely overtaken the crow's-wing black of his youth; a life spent on distant, forgotten paths and battling both the forces of nature and humankind have left no spare room on his broad and muscular frame for the softness that comes to some with age. His features are long and narrow, hawk-like, with deep-set eyes under a slanted brow and a bold nose that some might consider noble, though the rust-red tattoos that spiral around his arms and over the backs of his hands and a multitude of silvery scars speak to his prodigal background. His thick, wavy mass of hair is practically a windblown mane, falling free to his shoulders and almost never bound, though he has taken some care to tame his full beard into a sharp, jutting spade rather than grow wild and tangled.

Grim and brooding, Lothar is a man given to long silences and bleak reflection, few words and swift action preferred over what he considers to be useless small talk. Cityfolk meeting him for the first time might be struck by his near-complete lack of consideration for manners or etiquette, and a sense of humor that is best described as black and belonging to the gallows. Beneath the surface, he's a man that has nearly been crushed by the weight of the loss and pain he has had to endure in his life, and yet there's a fiery core that refuses to be quenched. Hand in hand is a deeply egalitarian perspective that drives him to help those who can't help themselves, and those who suffer most find him to be surprisingly kind and empathetic despite his gruff exterior.