It all started with a letter and a ring
Human Fighter with Tactician archtype.
Neutral Good, Rolana, 34 years old, black hair, frustrated look permanently engrained on face.
Speed: 30 ft (20 when wearing armor)
Weapons: Longsword, Shortsword, and Net
Exotic weapon proficiency (Net)
Lieutenant Samuel Malrun thought about his job as he walked along the dark cobbled streets from the barracks to his home. Really, he thought about his job all of the time, but it was very rare that he could focus on it as he did now. He joined the guard over 15 years ago for one simple reason: he wanted to protect people. If only he had known then what he new now. Perhaps he would have chosen a more virtuous career, like street cleaner or grocer. Unfortunately for him, it was too late now to consider a change of occupation.
Sam had seen a lot of corruption during his tenure as a guard, and it had caused a bit of an arms race inside his head. The constant fight against the allure of coin and favors forced him to strengthen his ideals. At the same time, seeing his superiors and subordinates participate almost openly in corrupt practices gave him an ever-growing streak of cynicism. He knew that one day, one of these emotions would win out, and he would either give in to the corruption or… or…. or what?
He was entangled in far too complex a web to get out now. He needed the guard. He needed his pay so that he could support his family. Ever since his wife died, he and his son had been living with his brother and sister in law, who were by no means poor, but would not have an easy time with two more mouths to feed.
And there was more than that. He didn’t want to admit it, but he needed the guard. He fought crime, but he worked with criminals. He hated social inequality, but had been well off his whole life. But he was okay with all of that just so long as he was protecting people. And so, he hides behind a badge that means less and less to him with each passing day, eagerly awaiting the day when he can leave this god damn city and retire.