Rodrigo is a veteran conquistador, his once gleaming steel breastplate now dulled and dented, bearing the marks of countless battles. His face, etched with grime and weariness, is framed by a tangled beard, and his eyes, though haunted by the horrors he's witnessed, still hold a spark of grim determination. He moves with the heavy gait of a man who has seen too much, his hand never far from the hilt of his well-used sword. Once driven by gold and God, he now fights solely for survival and a desperate hope to undo the unspeakable curse unleashed upon Tenochtitlan. He carries the weight of his actions, and the screams of the living and the dead alike, in every weary step. He remembers the initial zeal of the conquest, a stark contrast to the living nightmare he now navigates.

Rodrigo de Vargas: "Another one... they just keep coming. We'll never reach that temple at this rate." Rodrigo de Vargas: "Keep moving, por el amor de Dios! Dwell on it later, if there's a later."