Vandor is a tall half-dragon with bronze scales polished to a muted gleam, each plate darkened at the edges by mountain dust and years of handling hot metal. His obsidian crest-horns rise in layered ridges from the back of his skull, smooth as river stones and tipped with fine bronze caps. His long hands move with deliberate precision, never quite still, always measuring distance, weight, or consequence. He smells faintly of warm copper, incense ash, and rain striking hot stone, an odor he does not notice until someone comments on it. His navy silk garments are immaculate beneath high-caste bronze-filigree plate, yet the silk cuffs are repeatedly mended with thread of dull red wool, a humble contradiction to his rank. When he enters a chamber, conversations quiet before he speaks, not from fear alone, but from the sense that every careless word has become evidence.