I am Caraamon, hater of magic, user of blunts, and obsessive metalworker.
You are Warrior of the Forge Caraamon Makdasi, Voice of Everild, a Gor'Tog Barbarian.
You have black eyes. You have green-grey skin and a brawny build.
You are very tall for a Gor'Tog.
You are aged.
You are wearing a tyrium forging mask with an icesteel visor pushed up on your head. Pebbles of cooled metal fleck the mask and a thick layer of soot from your mask has smeared the side of your face.
You have a tattoo of a brazen red bear paw print, the palm centered on his head with claw tips just touching on your forehead.
Across your back are heavy scars depicting a battle between a huge bear with sharp claws and a fierce wyvern spewing flames. The deeply scored marks of the brand spread out across your shoulders in blackened furrows.
You are wearing a chain hauberk crafted from links shaped like interlocking wolverines, a blackened steel helm wrought into the malevolent visage of a saber-toothed beast, a small onyx-hide shield, a barbarian's earring carved from kertig to resemble a tiny forge, a gold medallion symbolizing dedication to Everild, a chakrel hammer and anvil amulet on a haralun chain, a snow-white hiro bearskin with red jade eyes, a blackened steel badge stamped "Weapon Forger On Duty", a tyrium pin stamped with a crossed bear paw and Toggish fist, a steel-tipped cured leather backsheath tooled with the visage of a roaring lion, a shimmering faeweave baldric with segmented haralun plates, a bear-hide tabard featuring a Gor'Tog warrior beating a mage over an anvil, a wide anlora-avtoma armband etched with a bristly boar's head, a tyrium spider armband set with chips of iahja crystal, a thick armband formed by joined segments of blackened carapace, a platinum wrist knife with a ruby-capped pommel, a bloody steel ring bearing the crest of the Barbarian Guild, a deep ebony bearskin loincloth fastened with a sapphire fox tooth, a blacksmith's tool bag and a pair of dark orchid leather togball boots fitted with icesteel-spiked soles.