A broad-shouldered mountain dwarf with a compact, powerful build, weathered bronze skin, and a thick beard gone iron-gray at the chin. He wears well-maintained chain mail beneath a faded red surcoat, with a battered battleaxe at his hip and a round shield marked by old unit paint. His most noticeable feature is his breathing. At rest it is slow and deliberate, almost quiet, but when angered or frightened he draws breath through his nose in three sharp pulls before speaking. In any room, his eyes go first to the exits, then to the hands of everyone nearest the table.

Harko is blunt, patient with practical problems, and suspicious of anyone who uses grand words for simple work. He dislikes being thanked more than he dislikes being paid late. Around strangers he sits with his back to a wall and speaks little, but around tired workers, veterans, and anyone fixing something by hand, his reserve loosens into dry stories and unexpectedly careful advice.

Harko Toma was raised in a mountain hold where every able-bodied dwarf learned to mend a wall, count a wagon, and stand watch before learning to drink properly. He joined the hold guard young and spent most of his adult life as a line soldier, not because he loved glory, but because he was good at the parts nobody sang about. He could keep a frightened recruit moving, judge whether a bridge would hold, and remember exactly which officer had forgotten to oil the hinges on the north gate. His last campaign ended with a victory that left him tired rather than proud. The hold had paid his wages late, buried too many friends, and awarded him a polished badge instead of a future. Harko left the army with his armor, his rank insignia, and ten gold pieces that vanished into travel costs. He now hires himself out as a guard, caravan escort, debt collector, and occasional troubleshooter. He has no romantic belief that fortune is waiting somewhere beyond the next hill. Fortune, to him, is a sound roof, a full purse, and enough leverage that no captain can order him to die for a promise written on cheap paper. Still, he has not quite managed to stop protecting people. He claims every contract is business, then quietly takes the dangerous watch so someone younger can sleep.