A towering goliath who seems carved from weathered glacier stone, Varku Meskhi stands with his shoulders slightly bowed, as though the Tower of Ashes presses down on him even when he is away from it. His skin is deep slate gray with pale mineral veining across his forearms and throat. He always wears a sealed iron helm shaped like a mourning bell, its narrow visor glowing faintly with reflected emberlight. The helm has no visible hinges and is never removed in public. His movements are unexpectedly quiet for someone so massive, each step placed with the care of a man crossing thin ice. Soot gathers in the seams of his armor, yet small white flowers are stitched inside his cloak where no one is meant to see them. He gives the impression of immense danger held in deliberate restraint, like a door that has learned to breathe.