Henryk Albalaski

Sturdy as an oak, this man appears in the physical prime of his life. There is no lean muscle upon him: everything about him, even the circumference of his head, is thick around. His hair is a sandy blonde, cut like a shaggy dog's coat, and his eyes are an icy, crystalline blue.

Henryk grew up a warrior, the middle of a gaggle of a baker's dozen of children. He was, and is, a strong, capable specimen, fit for a life in the frigid tundra and sometimes inhospitable nature of his homeland.

He was an easy to please child and youth, well-fed and fond of the love and camaraderie his family provided.

Life has not been all sunshine and spit-roasted boar, however. During a particularly dangerous expedition to explore the mountains, which was cut short, Henryk sustained an injury to his abdomen that required a long bout of convalescence.

During this time, it was decided that he would be sent to Sanctuary, his family citing that perhaps the warm weather would ease his aches and hasten his recovery. It has taken quite a bit of time for Henryk to adjust from his warrior's lifestyle to this stretch of 'leisure', and to the lack of his close relatives meddling sweetly nearby. He has been able to distract himself from his homesickness, however, by surrounding himself with creatives and sponsoring them with his hard-earned coin.

Henryk is a bit of an oaf, but well-meaning and generous. There is nothing graceful or refined about him: he pays far more creatively minded people to execute his visions.

Henryk is hard-working, steady, but a bit slow in his thought processes. He pays well, sometimes too well (given his lack of experience being a patron of the arts), and is sometimes easily bamboozled by new hires because of this.

He *does*, however, have a handful of artists of varying mediums that he keeps close with his generosity of patronage. His favorite is a woodworker who helps recreate the totems of his familial kingdom.