A compact, broad-shouldered orc with weathered green-gray skin, a broken lower tusk, and a long black braid threaded with dull copper rings. His left ear is notched from military service, and his knuckles are scarred from years of shield drills and close combat. He wears battered chain mail beneath a faded red soldier's cloak, with a greataxe strapped across his back and a pair of handaxes at his belt.

Brukha is blunt, watchful, and deeply dependable. He distrusts grand speeches but respects anyone who keeps a promise when it becomes inconvenient. He has a soldier's instinct for organizing chaos, though he becomes awkward when asked to discuss his own feelings. Around children, animals, and frightened recruits, his rough manner softens immediately.

Brukha Vezh was born in a border settlement where orc clans, human caravans, and mountain shepherds traded under uneasy truces. He learned early that strength was useful, but predictable strength was easy to exploit. His mother taught him the old marching songs of his clan, while a retired caravan guard taught him to read tracks, judge distances, and keep his head when everyone else was shouting. Brukha joined the local army after a winter raid destroyed three outlying farms. He expected glory. Instead, he found mud, hunger, bad orders, and frightened recruits who needed someone to stand between them and the enemy. His temper first became famous during the retreat from Red Cairn Pass. When his captain ordered the youngest soldiers abandoned, Brukha disobeyed, dragged six wounded troops through a snow-choked ravine, and held off pursuing raiders until dawn. He was court-martialed, stripped of rank, and quietly thanked by every survivor. Now he travels as a sellsword and escort, carrying the unit's faded standard in his pack. He fights with the controlled fury of a soldier who has seen what panic costs, and he is searching for the commander who gave the order that nearly killed his people.