A towering goliath whose presence reads like a carved cliffside: broad shoulders sloping into forearms corded with old rope-like scars, a face weathered by high wind and dust, and a long plait of grey-streaked hair braided with tiny iron washers. He moves with deliberate economy — each step places weight with purpose, as if measuring the world beneath his soles. He wears a battered leather harness littered with measuring beads and chalk, and his carved measuring rod (a cedar staff wrapped in dark hide) is both walking stick and ledger; along its length are notches, inked sigils, and maps burned into the wood. Unexpectedly, his eyes sparkle with a childlike curiosity when shown new rock samples or strange tools, betraying a softer, almost scholarly side beneath the stern exterior.