Short, broad-shouldered and compact like a living anvil. Vornak's beard is a braided cascade of dark auburn threaded with fine copper wire and tiny iron beads; each bead is stamped with a rune for a fallen apprentice. His skin carries a permanent gray soot in the low lines of his palms and under his fingernails, as if the forge never quite leaves him. He favors a heavy leather apron over polished chain, and his left forearm is ringed by a jagged white scar that glows faintly if he channels divine energy. Moves with the grounded slowness of a smith who weights every step — yet in moments of prayer or awe he becomes unpredictable, rocking on the balls of his feet and waving his hammer like a conductor. Contradiction: he wears a fresh wildflower behind his ear on holy days, petals pristine against a face smudged in ash.