Morgrim stands at a sturdy 4 feet with a dense form, more akin to the rocks he once mined. His beard, an untamed cascade of silver and ash, tumbles nearly to his belly. Though his eyes are dimmed with age, they still gleam with a defiant spark. His hands are gnarled and calloused, with a few scars that hint at his past craftsmanship. Curiously, he wears elaborately fine, silk gloves—a stark contrast to the rest of his well-worn, sooty appearance.