Before you stands a dwarf, largely indistinguishable from other members of his race especially to outsiders, except for the minor fact that he occasionally has glowing fiery orange ruins in the ancient language of the Dwarves on his tanned skin.  His hair is kept in a loose ponytail with a bit of copper, the wire blending in with the color of his hair, while his beard is burnt at the ends and a similar color.

Protecting his muscled chest is a finely made breastplate, anvils and forges etched into the metal by himself, crafted from steel. Covering the rest of his body is a dazzling array of chainmail, each link handcrafted by himself over the span of several weeks, with a detachable hood that is more often than not kept in his backpack instead of protecting his head. On his left hip is a warhammer that shows a dwarf presumably forging the hammer in question, the forges seeming to glow with the same fiery color as the letters that cover his skin. Apparently welded to his left gauntlet, for the only time he's without it is when he's out of his armor, is a small rectangular shield roughly the size of his torso, tinted green and etched with an image of dwarves fighting some unknown (perhaps even unknowable) enemy. Finally he has a pack made of bulette skin which he keeps the most important of his belongings. When offered the chance to smith he wears clothes fitting of that profession, the holes burned into his clothing patched up with various types of leather until the final appearance is one more fitting for a jester instead of the best damn blacksmith in the land. 

His faithful yak Bartholomew, or Barth for short, carries the rest of their belongings in two giant bronze baskets that serve as it's saddle bags. It's hair is brown with hints of gray, shaggy and in need of a good scrub just like Drovis. Otherwise it looks like any other yak and acts about as well as one could expect from an animal that's been in a caravan since birth.