Röc the Warrior

Name: Röc
Species: TBD by GM, angling for a Lizardfolk from the southern swamps to tie my character into the setting while still being newcome to Drakonheim.
Class: Warrior (Increase Strength. Take 1 Talent, a weapon of your choice, and plain clothing.)

Strength d8, Reason d6, Speed d6, Presence d6

Class Talents:
• Martial Arts (Follow any 3+ hand-to-hand roll with a grab, disarm, throw, trip, or the like.)

Ancestry Traits:
• Bestial (Attack with fang or claw.)
• Thick-Skinned (When your guard is up, deflect attacks from all but heavy weapons & magic.)

Items: Maul (heavy), Light Armor, 1 coins

Yep, Lizardfolk seems right!

While "lizardfolk" says something, it is about as specific as "human". That is there are many varieties of lizard in the world and swamp, and so many types of lizardfolk.

What does Röc look like? He's big? For a lizardfolk, or a human? How tall? What clothes does he wear? Lizards have different throat structures than mammals; can we say there is a fairly common gestural language by which he can communicate with Drakonheimers? Or do lizardfolk have larynxes like mammalian peoples?

Does Röc know anyone in Drakonheim?

The road out of the delta marsh does not exist. It was there before, and then the wilderness whelmed it. Cobbles remain, tumbled by the forceful roots of marsh grass that stands twice tall as Röc. Yellow stalks from last year mix with the shorter green and sharp-edged leaves of this year's shoots. The grass smells musty-fresh as the breeze sways it.

Röc moves easily through the grasses, aware of his surroundings as a warrior is.

After time he moves through a gap between grass-stands, and his clawed foot presses down on different grass. The marsh edge! Ahead he can see an actual road and at the very horizon, miles away, the distant white smudge that must be the walls of Drakonheim.

The road through the grassland is easy; he meets no opposition, just passing a few flocks of sheep.

As he reaches the outskirt of the city, Röc may be disappointed to find no guarded gates. The walls rise high and gleam white, but they are surrounded by broken hovels half-overgrown by scrubby bushes and trees. There is probably half a mile to go among the ruined buildings before reaching the wall.

Does Röc poke around this area, or continue into the city?

Hmm...I want him to be noticably big, enough to make heads turn, but not so big it's inconvenient or disruptive. So...maybe 2 meters tall?
Having come from a lizardfolk tribe, his garb would probably be tribal. Necklace and armbands, a harness for a backpack, some crotch coverings. He'd need more "civilized" clothes in the near future, though his armor can serve as that in a pinch.
For communication's sake, it's probably best if Röc has a larynx or equivalent.
Nope! He's as green an adventurer as it gets. Though if you have a quest NPC in mind, I'm more than willing to have Röc know them for the sake of the plot.

Great!

Does Röc explore the ruined stone cottages, or continue among them toward the city wall?

The sheep are shy or playful — it's hard to tell — and scatter and frolic away as Röc attempts to approach them.

The huts are not entirely deserted. There's a faint odor of cooking meat near one of them. As Röc approaches, his claws skitter against a piece of stone. Immediately, he hears startled motion inside the hut. What does he do?

After a brief silence like breath being held, a small person looks around the edge of the hut's doorway. They are about three feet tall with curly hair, and big green eyes. It's not clear whether their eyes ALWAYS are that big, or whether they're frightened of Röc. All he can see is their head looking around the doorframe.

The small person gasps and steps forward around the door frame. "That wasn't what I expected!" she exclaims. "I'm … fine. Uh, how are you?"

"Oh. Uh, hi, Rourke. I'm Diffin. I'm a halfling, well, I guess you can see that." She looks diffidently up at Röc. "You're from the delta?"

The scared/friendly halfling gives Röc quick directions with nervous words and hand gestures. Then he's on his way.

About halfway from Diffin's cottage to the wall, Röc brushes between a pair of thorny bushes that mostly block an alley between buildings. Then he sees them:

two odd-smelling humans. They smell like death. They were facing away from Röc but as the thorns catch on his scanty clothing, the noise draws their attention. They turn toward him … their eyes glow green, in the dim light under the cloudy sky. They open their mouths, soundlessly, as if yawning … and they start to charge toward him.

What does he do?

Up close they have the sour reek of decaying meat, and there is no longer time for Röc to ready his maul or space to swing. Their teeth glisten as they try to seize Röc.

Röc is at risk of being grappled and bitten. Does he try to break free? Try to injure the predatory dead? What does he attempt?

Röc's aggression works out well: his swift claws rip the rotten head right off one of his foul-smelling assailants. Its body collides with the other, sending that one stumbling into the alley wall.

Röc now has choices: safely flee? Finish off the remaining zombie? Or …?