Harold is a barrel chested dwarf with skin that has a faint metallic sheen like polished copper. His orange beard is thick and often stained with soot or coal dust. He wears tattered acolyte robes over simple leather leggings, and a small ruby glows intermittently in the palm of his hand.

Harold is a quiet, pragmatic man who values a hard day of manual labor over abstract philosophy. He is visibly uncomfortable with his own magic, often apologizing when a spell goes awry or produces more smoke than power. He speaks in short, grumbling sentences.

For decades, Harold was nothing more than a dedicated janitor and stone mason for the Great Sanctum of Moradin. He took pride in the physical upkeep of the temple, finding peace in the rhythmic scrubbing of floors and the heavy lifting of ritual altars. He was never chosen for the high priesthood due to his complete lack of social grace, a fact he accepted with quiet dignity. Everything changed during the Festival of High Forge when a ritual flame reacted to his presence, igniting his dormant draconic blood and incinerating half of the temple's tapestries. The elders determined that Harold was a sorcerer, a vessel of raw, internal power that his humble soul was never prepared to wield. They gave him their blessing and a gentle push out the front door, encouraging him to find a way to control the fire before he accidentally brought the mountain down. Now, Harold wanders the world as an adventurer by necessity, a dwarf who would rather be laying bricks but finds himself throwing fireballs instead.