A Temple is a Terrible Thing to Waste...
White long hair and a beard, a big scar on his face. He carries a Wolf Pin at his neck. His holy symbol, he grunts and then silences whenever asked how he got it. His dusty chain mail and heavy War Hammer complete his visual.
Uthar joined a band of mercenaries at the age of 16. War is his life. But he is a survivor and a con man of sorts. He wandered battlefields selling his skill as a medicine man. But now and then he also made some coin selling “blessed tokens” for soldiers, promising they would keep them from harm, and other miraculous services for desperate individuals with the help of his mercenary friends. Naturally these miracles were only stunts, not true cures. But honor is not for all soldiers. Or so he thought.
Until one day, when his party was ambushed by Orcs of the Lone hand clan. He was the only survivor of this brutal battle. He has seen death. And with it light and the power to heal himself. He does not understand why he was chosen. He has swore an oath to Lathander to avenge his fallen companions and make up to all the soldiers he has tricked. Maybe the Gods still have hidden goals for him.