A bishop in warmer lands, uncounted lifetimes ago. Now blessed (or cursed?) with something like immortality he wanders the Frozen North doing small kindnesses, leaving small gifts, vanquishing terrible things.
And all the time he waits.
He waits for the day when the cities crumble and the Dark Things rise and he is allowed to charge, laughing, into the last great battle.
Happy Saint Nicholas Day! The format of the description above was taken from Neil Gaiman's hilarious, dark interpretation of Santa from the very short story "Nicholas Was..." which you can read here. By format I mean it starts with "Nicholas was" and ends with "Ho, ho, ho."
Good ol' Saint Nick, patron not just of children but also of archers! And thieves. I take heart. This guy was made to look after the Hatke House.