Gerald is a burly man with skin the color of tanned leather and hands calloused from decades of smithing. He has salt and pepper hair tucked under a metal headband, and his soot-stained beard is kept in a neat braid. His plate armor is exceptionally well-maintained, polished to a mirror finish despite the grime of the road.

Gerald is patient and methodical, speaking in metaphors involving metallurgy and structural integrity. He rarely loses his temper, believing that heat is for the forge and a cool head is for the finish. He treats his companions like works in progress, often offering unsolicited advice on how they could improve their gear or their form.

Gerald spent thirty years as a loyal member of the Master Smith's Guild, content to live his life between the bellows and the anvil. He was a craftsman of some renown, known for making armor that could withstand a giant's blow. His life changed during a quiet night at the forge when the metal he was shaping began to glow with a divine, inner light that did not fade when the steel cooled. He realized then that the god of the forge had been watching his long years of honest labor and was calling him to serve. He traded his shop for a traveling kit, realizing that the world was full of broken things that no ordinary hammer could fix. He still views himself as a simple artisan, even as he calls down celestial fire or mends the wounds of his allies. To Gerald, a broken rib is just another structural failure that needs a expert's touch to align. He carries the weight of his responsibility with the same steady grace he used to carry bags of coal.