A robust, boisterous man with a mane of flaming red hair, Gallic has been compared to a lion roaming the Barrens. Others have observed that if lions regularly challenge everything they see and wake up piss drunk in the Stormwind canals every morning, then the analogy would be more apt.
Tall enough to come up to the nose of a male Kaldorei, and with sharp blue eyes, Gallic is considered rather handsome by the ladies. A fact he takes advantage of at every opportunity.
Gallic is more often heard before seen. Loud and crude, he is quick to give his opinion on anything and everything. An orphan, raised by a unit of bored Dwarven reservists Gallic can rattle off curses that could make a sailor blush. He usually finds himself in trouble due to some unconscious racial slur, but since he loves a good fight, he doesn’t mind a bit.
However, when it comes to his work as a merchant, Gallic can be a very canny negotiator.
To but it bluntly, Gallic is a travesty to the Light. A flagrant violator of almost all of the paladin’s oaths, it is a wonder that he hasn’t been kicked out of the order. Errors include stealing sacred wine from the Cathedral, punching a Night elf ambassador, and tumbling several priestesses of the Abby Choir (‘Aye, tis the shy ones that always sing the loudest’).
But, lady luck has had her fill of this paladin. Rumor has it that Gallic is deeply in debt to the goblins of the Steamwheedle Cartel over a truly epic bar tab. Since he has nothing of value, Gallic made an agreement to work off his debt by selling the Cartel’s merchandise in Stormwind. At least that’s what he claims. The origin of such fine quality wares is somewhat of a mystery.
Wandering the streets of Stormwind doing business, or outside the tavern of Goldshire dueling anything that moves.