Thramm stands like an unmoving pillar of granite. His skin is the color of wet slate, deeply creased around the eyes from squinting into forge-fires. His beard is a magnificent, braided copper cascade, interwoven with tiny silver bells that chime softly when he walks. Despite his heavy build, he moves with a rhythmic, measured grace. He carries a heavy shield emblazoned with a glowing anvil and a warhammer that seems to hum with a low frequency. His armor is kept so clean it reflects the sky like a mirror, contrasting with his rough, calloused hands and the constant, gentle scent of lavender oil that clings to his person.