A sturdy, plainly dressed human with a smith's apprentice's broad shoulders and a careful, economical way of moving. His hands are the first thing people notice: thickened palms, dark traces of forge soot in the creases, and small polished patches where years of filing and hammering have worn the skin smooth. His armor is old but meticulously cared for, and his longsword has no ornament beyond a clean, serviceable grip. Before speaking, he takes a quiet breath through his nose, as if measuring whether words are worth spending.

Practical, steady, and quietly considerate. Haerb is more comfortable proving his care by fixing a loose strap or sharing the last of his food than by talking about his feelings. He respects competence, dislikes waste, and has a dry, understated sense of humor that surfaces once he knows a person can be trusted.

Haerb grew up on a small farm where repairs were never put off until tomorrow. His father, Oren, taught him to mend a gate before the goats found the weak board, while his mother, Eadwyn, made every meal stretch without making anyone feel they had gone short. His younger sister, Tilda, followed him through the fields asking questions faster than he could answer them. When the farm's income proved thin, Haerb went to work in town as an apprentice to Ygva, a smith who valued a straight edge, a sound rivet, and a worker who cleaned up after himself. Haerb learned to keep tools sharp and equipment in working order, and he took odd jobs clearing rats from barns, storehouses, and cellars to send extra money home.