Varkhula moves with a deliberate, almost theatrical grace that betrays her fierce orcish heritage yet belies the simmering arcane power always just beneath the surface. Her broad shoulders are wrapped in a patchwork cloak of deep indigos and charcoal grays, appearing worn yet carefully maintained. She has a sharp jawline punctuated by one crooked tusk that seems oddly delicate, as if preserved like a trophy. Across her left cheek runs a faint silvery scar shaped like a jagged lightning bolt. Her walk is slow and purposeful, with the occasional abrupt snap of her fingers as if conducting invisible magic. Surprisingly, her rhythm occasionally breaks into soft humming — a pacifying song only she hears.