Khar is a broad-shouldered man whose body carries the quiet wear of a working life rather than the polished grandeur of a temple champion. His forearms are darkened by sun, dust, and old iron filings, while his palms are crosshatched with fine white calluses from hammer hafts and shield straps. He moves with a deliberate, slightly forward-leaning gait, as if every floor might suddenly become a battlefield. His beard is kept short except for two stubborn points beneath the jaw that never lie flat. His armor is imposing, but his hands are surprisingly gentle, and he handles wounded animals with the care of a midwife. The first thing most people notice is the strip of faded blue cloth tied around his left gauntlet, its edge worn smooth from years of nervous rubbing.