Brother Iron-Pulse is a stocky dwarf who looks carved rather than born, with squared shoulders, a barrel chest, and hands thick as tool heads. His beard is a surprisingly neat fan of copper-red braids bound with tiny iron clasps, but one braid is threaded with white wax beads from funeral candles. His skin has the color of old bronze and the texture of hammered leather, marked by pale ritual scars across the scalp, knuckles, and the inner forearms. He walks with a measured, reverent limp, as if each step is tested for moral weight before it lands. He wears austere black wool under a soot-gray vestment, yet the hem is embroidered in gold thread that glitters like church treasure. The contradictory element is his gentleness: despite his iron-stern name and severe garb, his eyes are warm, tired, and almost maternal when he tends to the injured.