Rough Knuckles is a broad-shouldered male orc with slate-green skin, a flattened nose, heavy brow ridges, and two chipped lower tusks. His black hair is shaved close except for a stiff crest tied with red cord. He wears battered leather armor beneath a soldier's coat, with a useless chain shirt bundled across his pack for trade. His hands are scarred and swollen from years of striking shields, faces, and drumheads. His lute is crudely repaired with mismatched wood and dark, bloodstained strings.

Rough Knuckles is quiet between fights and intensely focused during them. He speaks in clipped military phrases, treats every conversation like a negotiation between commanders, and shows affection by repairing someone's gear or standing watch without being asked. He is sincerely proud of his music, despite having no sense of melody, and insists that his performance style is traditional orc percussion.

Rough Knuckles was never taught a proper song. In the warband that raised him, rhythm came from marching boots, spear hafts, and fists striking enemy shields. He discovered that a steady beat could make frightened soldiers advance, and that a sudden change in tempo could make an opponent hesitate. His commanders called it battlefield music. The few survivors who heard it called it something else. Rough Knuckles simply called it useful. After years of disciplined service, he left the warband with a damaged lute taken from a dead minstrel. He cannot play a recognizable tune, but he can strum three harsh chords while punching an enemy in time with the rhythm. He now travels from settlement to settlement as a bard of no reputation, offering songs, intimidation, and practical military advice in exchange for food and coin. Blood often covers the strings of his instruments because he insists that every performance should have an audience, a beat, and consequences.