Rurik is a wide, solid dwarf with skin the color of cooled volcanic rock and a beard like a dying ember, dark red shot through with charcoal grey. He is perpetually covered in a fine layer of soot that seems to sweat out of his pores. He wears simple leather trousers and heavy boots, opting to go shirtless to reveal a tapestry of burn scars across his barrel chest. He carries a massive, soot-blackened greataxe that looks more like a tool of demolition than a refined weapon.

Rurik is stoic and gruff, speaking in short, punchy sentences as if he's conserving his breath for the forge. He treats his companions like metal being tempered, often criticizing their technique or posture but always standing in front to take the heaviest blows. He has a dry, gallows humor and finds comfort in the rhythmic sound of metal striking metal.

Rurik was once a master smith in the high mountain halls, famous for forging blades that never chipped and shields that never buckled. His life was defined by the steady heat of the forge and the order of the guild. However, a corrupt merchant guild rival conspired to destroy his reputation, eventually resorting to arson. Rurik was trapped inside his workshop as it burned, inhaling thick, magical soot while he watched his life's work melt into slag. He survived, but the fire never truly left his lungs. The order of the craftsman was replaced by a smoldering, uncontrollable fury. He left his home, carrying only his heavy smith's tools and the jagged remnants of his favorite axe, which he reforged into a crude instrument of war. Now, he wanders as a mercenary, finding that the only thing that quiets the burning in his chest is the heat of battle. He seeks to earn enough gold to build a new forge, one that cannot be burned, while hunting down the men who stole his peace.