The squad’s impromptu quarter master, accountant, cook, and task whip, has a head for figures, a jaw for friendly exaggeration, hands for hard work, and a gut for guzzling the finest of the empire’s ales. “Work like a horse, die like a man, and live like a king in between” is his own motto that he does well to live by. Seldom is he seen during the day without a tool in his hand mending mail or stitching leather or busily assessing and procuring supplies or setting and breaking camp and at the end of the day he is always happy to share his acquired vittles with the squad as long as they’ve earned it. His good natured and garrulous gut is not one to take lightly though. His twenty stones of meat and gristle might not fit into the greasy breast plate he never seems to take off, but he’s as quick as a cat and strong as a bear when he wants to be, and more than one recruit has found themselves face first in the mud after arguing with him about camp tasks.