Dark brown skin, scarred and sun-weathered, stretches across thick muscle. From his build to the features of his face, Tharmok is structured very much like a boulder. Six feet and change, a heavy green coat covers his torso and the slope of his broad shoulders, long loose sleeves accommodating for his arms. His hands are broad and flat, habitually curled fingers lined with strange burn marks.

Even his face carries that bulwark quality to it, a prominent brow above thick blunt cheekbones, a slash of a mouth, and a square jaw. Black hair is cut jagged and short, as if with a knife.

Set deep in his skull, the man’s eyes are a paradox, a counterpoint to the dark skin tone and hair. They are a pale green, bright, sharp and clear, like fresh mint, and yet there is something missing from them, something as ephemeral as it is intrinsic to all sentient things.

Aside from the coat, Tharmok wears a pair of black-brown trousers, a narrow grey belt, and boots of the same color. There is a line of slightly less darkened skin just above his upper lip , where perhaps he once wore a mask or veil.