Thaxor Ironbough moves with a careful, unrushed gait that belies his muscular frame. His shell is pockmarked and soot-stained, a canvas of countless forge fires, but it gleams faintly in certain light as if some invisible glaze had been applied. His leathery skin is rough and scarred, but his hands are surprisingly delicate when working fine embellishments. His eyes, deeply set and bright amber, hold a dull fire of persistent focus and wistful knowledge. An unusual, faintly iridescent pattern of faint runes encircles the edges of his shell — a contradictory softness to his otherwise rugged exterior. Despite his bulk, he prefers simple cloth garments that are patched repeatedly rather than heavy leather aprons, leaving oddly bare forearms to reveal intricate faded tattoos of ancestral craftsmanship symbols.