Bornaby Järnnäve is a towering half-orc whose presence makes doorframes, chandeliers, and ordinary conversation seem undersized. His skin has the muted green-gray tone of rain-darkened stone, textured with old scratches and tiny pale scars. One lower tusk is capped in polished brass, while the other is chipped from a wolf trap he once refused to release. He moves with surprising quiet for someone so massive, placing each foot as carefully as a hunter crossing thin ice. His hands are broad, callused, and permanently stained with berry syrup, soot, and iron filings. The unexpected contradiction is his delicacy: he can carry three full kegs at once, yet handles every pastry, songbird, and sleeping child as though it might break from a careless breath. He leaves people with the impression of a storm cloud that has learned table manners.