Krik is a compact Cinderclaw with dust-coated charcoal scales that carry a dull graphite sheen beneath the grime. His body is narrow through the waist but heavily built in the forearms and shoulders, shaped by years of hauling scrap, climbing wreckage, and striking test pieces with a hammer. He moves in quick, economical bursts, then becomes perfectly still when listening. A thick leather belt hangs low around his hips, crowded with mineral chisels, magnification loupes, tagged wire samples, tiny balance weights, and a ledger swollen from damp and handling. His most unexpected feature is his immaculate mouth. Whenever he speaks, his small teeth show clean and pale against the black dust on his scales, as if he has just come from a bath rather than a slag yard. Before answering a question, he draws a sharp breath through his nose, clicks his tongue once against his teeth, and lets the silence settle. When rattled, his breathing becomes shallow and metronomic, accompanied by a faint ticking of claws against his ledger.