A broad-shouldered goliath standing just over seven feet tall, with slate-gray skin marked by pale natural birth patterns across the shoulders and forearms. Her black hair is kept in a short, practical braid bound with red thread. She wears well-maintained chain mail beneath a weathered white-and-ochre clerical mantle, and a heavy iron holy symbol hangs at her chest. The symbol is polished smooth where her thumb repeatedly rubs it during prayer. She takes up noticeable space in any room and has learned to move carefully around smaller folk, though chairs and doorframes still seem to object to her presence.

Quiet, observant, and steady under pressure. Mikatz has a dry sense of humor and a habit of treating logistical problems as sacred responsibilities. She is gentle with the frightened, blunt with the reckless, and deeply uncomfortable with praise. She prefers useful conversation, shared meals, and people who keep their promises.

Mikatz Korr was born among a highland goliath clan that measured worth by endurance, skill, and the willingness to carry another person through a storm. As a child, she was never the fastest climber or the strongest wrestler, but she possessed an unusual patience. She could sit beside an injured hunter for an entire night without complaint, counting breaths and keeping the fire alive. When a winter avalanche buried part of the clan's migration route, Mikatz dug through snow until her hands bled, then heard a voice beneath the mountain. She followed that voice to a half-buried shrine dedicated to a patient god of shelter, healing, and shared burdens. The shrine's priest taught her that strength was not merely the ability to withstand suffering. It was the decision to make suffering less necessary for someone else. Mikatz eventually left the highlands as a wandering cleric, carrying the shrine's iron emblem and learning the roads, rivers, hunting grounds, and settlements of the wider world. She has served as healer, guide, exorcist, and occasionally the person who stands in a doorway so nothing cruel can pass. Her faith is practical and unsentimental. She believes the divine is found less in thunderous miracles than in the hand that steadies a cup, the blanket shared in cold weather, and the traveler who refuses to abandon the slowest member of the group.