Vorinth is a broad-shouldered brass dragonborn whose scales have been dulled by years of furnace vapor, chemical wash, and volcanic ash. Pale chemical burns stipple his forearms and gather in darker rings around the joints of his jaw and neck. His heat-shielded armor moves with the measured precision of a machine, each plate sliding with a soft click before settling into place. He keeps one hand resting on a black calibration rod worn smooth where his thumb passes over it during every conversation. His teeth are square and unusually pale against his brass muzzle, but two lower fangs have been capped in silver alloy. When he eats, he cuts food into exact portions and chews with slow, grinding deliberation. When he laughs, which is rare, the silver caps flash like rivets in a furnace door. Despite his severe bearing, he smells faintly of cinnamon oil, a private indulgence used to mask the harsher scents of his laboratories.