Broad-shouldered and deliberate in motion, Kael moves with the calm economy of a man who has spent decades both drilling recruits and fine-tuning clockwork. He wears rune-scarred steel gauntlets that have darkened at the joints from oil and blood; the runes sometimes glow faintly when he speaks commands. His face is weathered but not unhandsome: a straight half-elf nose, a shallow scar running from temple to jaw (the result of an old recruit's training mishap), and a hairline of small silvered implants along his left ear used to calibrate auditory wards. He carries the scent of pipe-smoke and machine oil. Unexpectedly, when he laughs he reveals a tiny gold tooth inset near the back molars — a childhood dare that he never removed. He favors practical boots that whisper rather than clunk, and often has grease smudges at cuff and collar as if he never quite leaves the forge.