Gor-rok

Gor-rok emerged from the spawning pools bone-white, unmarked, and alone of his kind, and the skink priests argued for a generation over what the omen meant. The saurus himself has never once wondered. Spawned to hold ground, he holds it; the question of why is a job for wizards. Across countless wars his pale hide has collected a lattice of scars from every horror the realms can field, and his legend has collected something rarer — the simple fact that no one, mortal or daemon, has ever made him take a backward step.

In battle Gor-rok is less a warrior than a fixed point the fighting breaks against. His great stone shield has stopped charges that levelled walls, and his mace answers each one with slow, terrible arithmetic. The slann prize him beyond armies, and not only for his strength: a mind so straight and so unadorned offers nothing for sorcery to grip, no vanity to flatter, no fear to feed. Where cleverer champions have been turned, tempted, or broken, the Great White Lizard simply plants his feet — and the Great Plan, whatever else it has lost, keeps at least one thing exactly where it was put.