Murt Azar

Murt Azar (32mm, 75mm) Pre-supportedCaptain Murt Azar stood at the prow of his ship, The Golden Mane, a silhouette of coiled power against the setting sun. He was a mountain of tawny fur and corded muscle, a lion whose amber eyes held the chill of the deep ocean. Two curved sabers, extensions of his own deadly claws, were crossed on his back, their polished steel glinting. The heavy belts across his broad chest held not just powder and shot, but a quartet of flintlock pistols, their handles worn smooth from use. Most striking of all was the massive, spoked ship's wheel fixed to a custom harness on his back, a permanent testament to his singular purpose: he was never truly separated from his command, the heart of his vessel forever bound to his own. The wind sang in his dark mane as he turned, the great wheel creaking with the movement. He was the storm and the calm, the navigator and the engine. With a low growl that rumbled like distant thunder, he directed his crew not with shouts,