Grunha moves like an anchored wave — deliberate, heavy at the start, then suddenly driving forward with force. Her skin bears a pale green-gray wash, clay-streaked from riverbanks and sun-bleached from long days outdoors. Scars map across her forearms and left cheek: a jagged pale line that runs from temple to jaw and a crescent healed over her right eyebrow. She keeps a thick, dark braid threaded with river glass and the teeth of small fish; the braid swings like a pendulum when she walks. Her shoulders are wrapped in a patchwork leather cloak stitched with faded shipping marks; over the cloak she sometimes dons a child's, rusted iron pauldron — an oddity that seems both sentimental and impractical. When she stands still she seems too heavy for her frame; when she runs she becomes astonishingly light-footed, almost gliding over wet rocks. An unexpected detail: despite the hulking half-orc build, her fingernails are always trimmed and stained with blue dye — a sign of a craft she keeps private.