Thrain is a stout Hill Dwarf with skin the color of tanned leather and eyes like deep river stones. His copper hair is meticulously braided, and his beard is bound with iron rings. He wears shining chain mail with a pristine white tabard marked by a red hand, representing the Broken God. Despite his heavy gear, his movements are deliberate and surprisingly quiet.

Thrain is soft spoken for a dwarf, preferring the calm of a chapel or the focused quiet of a sickroom to the roar of a tavern. He listens more than he talks, and his gaze is always searching for those in pain. He carries himself with a heavy sense of responsibility, believing that every drop of blood spilled is a failure he must personally mend.

Thrain was born in the low hills of the Ironroot range, a quiet region known more for its agriculture and surface mining than for grand wars. His life changed during the Great Wasting, a necrotic plague that swept through his clan's mountain holds. As a simple stone mason, Thrain could do nothing but watch his kin wither away while the local healers struggled with dwindling supplies and exhausted spirits. On the verge of despair, he witnessed a traveling priest of Ilmater offer his own life force to purge the rot from a dying child. The sight of such absolute selflessness ignited a fire in Thrain that the cold mountain winds could never extinguish. He abandoned his hammer and chisel, taking up the mantle of the Broken God. Thrain spent decades in the high temples, learning that the strength of stone is nothing compared to the resilience of a spirit bolstered by faith. He eventualy returned to his people to build a great hospital within the living rock, but the voices of his faith told him that there was more work to be done in the world above. He now travels the surface lands, a wandering medic and bastion of light, seeking to provide comfort to the downtrodden and shield the innocent from the horrors he once watched consume his own family.