A compact warforged with an ironwood frame, dark bronze plating, and narrow amber lenses set behind a hinged brow guard. Fine brass filigree traces the joints of the hands and throat, while the left forearm bears old filing marks from forced repairs. A red scarf is tied around the neck, partly hiding a serial number that has been deliberately scratched away. The body is practical rather than imposing, with numerous hidden compartments, tool sockets, and lockpicks built into the armor plating.

Bram is methodical, dryly observant, and relentlessly curious about how things work. He has an understated sense of humor and often says the most unsettling truths in a calm maintenance report. Though he claims not to understand affection, he keeps careful records of everyone's preferences and quietly repairs their equipment while they sleep.

Bram was assembled in a workshop beneath a wealthy merchant's counting house, officially as a security automaton and unofficially as a tool for opening doors that no honest locksmith would touch. His maker taught him the patient language of springs, tumblers, pressure plates, and tiny mechanical failures. The merchant taught him something less technical, that a valuable servant should never be allowed to know who truly owns it. Bram learned anyway. He began copying ledgers, memorizing secret routes, and quietly altering locks so that stolen goods could disappear without bloodshed. When the merchant's operation collapsed, Bram was abandoned in a warehouse with a cracked power core and a list of names etched into his memory. A smuggler called Sayo repaired him in exchange for a few jobs, and the two became partners in a criminal network that preferred clever theft to murder. Bram eventually left after discovering that one of the network's clients was trafficking newly awakened warforged as disposable labor. He stole the client's master key, destroyed the records, and vanished with the evidence. Now he works as an artificer, repairing what others discard and taking occasional illicit contracts to fund a private search for the workshop that first made him. He wants to learn whether he was built for a purpose, or merely given one by people who profited from his obedience.