Orthar is a tall, gaunt man with a perpetual smirk and restless, dark eyes. He wears scale mail that has been painted a dull indigo, layered over faded acolyte vestments that have seen better days. His dark hair is messy and poorly cut, and he carries his mace with a relaxed, almost careless grip.

He is skeptical of rigid dogma and enjoys finding the irony in every situation. Orthar is quick with a joke and even quicker to point out the failings of those who take themselves too seriously. He values wit over strength and prefers a clever solution to a violent one, though he is no stranger to the latter.

Orthar was raised within the suffocating marble walls of the Temple of Saint Sollars. He spent his youth polishing altars and memorizing tedious litanies that praised order and hierarchy. He felt no connection to the rigid laws of the priesthood, finding more divinity in the flickering of a guttering candle or the unexpected laugh of a beggar. During his final initiation, Orthar intentionally swapped the holy water with weak vinegar, an act that caused a minor scandal and ultimately led to his quiet departure from the order. Now he wanders the roads as an itinerant priest of a deity he calls the Laughing Shadow. He believes that true enlightenment comes when a person's expectations are subverted. He treats his holy symbols with a casual disregard that shocks more traditional clerics, often using them as makeshift tools or gambling tokens. To Orthar, the gods are not distant masters but cosmic pranksters, and he sees himself as their latest punchline, walking the world to spread a gospel of uncertainty and freedom.