As dwarfen women go, Cecla is a sharp featured example with the combination of less then broad cheek bones and a sharp point of a chin that lends itself towards an almost hawkish look with the added detail of her typically prominent nose. The impression is really only compounded by dark brown eyes that seem to shine with equal measures of stubbornness, pride, and a worrying spice of both curiosity and intelligence that are distinctly unique to the dwarfhold of Zhufbar. Her complexion, to little surprise, speaks to a great deal of time spent away from the light of the sun and perhaps too much time spent near boilers, forges, and other sources of searing heat resulting in a sort of ruddy paleness. Contrasting this is the relatively rich hue of her copper hair kept in a simple sturdy braid down to her waist. It's every inch seeming to be groomed with meticulous care and kept in the utmost health as if it might be more precious than just about every other part of her.

In form and figure, Cecla is much like other dwarfs with that same robust and stocky build that speaks as readily to an impression of stubborn endurance and strength whether she actually possesses it or not. By comparison though it's easy to note she is slimmer and a fraction more delicate against the example set by the more commonly seen men of her mountain dwelling folk. That she might still match or exceed the weight of any human or elf she could conceivably cross paths with only speaks to the old adages that the stone makes it's home in the bones of a dwarf.

Her sense of fashion and practicality do little to flaunt any feminine wiles she might lay claim to with leather apron, thrice stained and burnt jacket, tunic, skirts or pants, and sturdy boots all readily in evidence and each demonstrating that unique quality of dwarf craftsmanship. All of it speaking to an ever busy and engaged student that seems to have forgotten just what sleep or rest might mean. The only choices that seem to break that mold is her taste in accessories which often manifest in the form of inscribed cuffs of gold and silver along side an endless variety of pins tipped in small gems worked and nestled into the braids of her hair. Each speaking to a certain station among her peers even as she suffers beneath the yoke of apprenticeship.

Personality:

Any dwarf is a creature of engrained habit and tradition, Cecla is no different in that regard. Knowing her place in relation to her peers and the greater breadth of dwarf society brings with it a pleasant simplicity to her business and pursuits. The old ways are often the best ways, after all, until they aren't and it's that latter point that has always made her something of a problem and a delight in the eyes of her father. Cecla is simply far too curious for her own good in many cases, her questions brushing against lines or opening up lines of thought that have yet to quite meet the approval of the Elders at best and at worst seem to tread terribly close to taboo. That this is paired with the typical gruff and forthright bluntness that is so emblematic of her people only really serves to further exasperate the point.

It becomes clear after a point that this curiosity is a corner stone of a strong sense of independence and free-thinking that is often at odds with the expectations placed upon her. Certainly, there are ways to doing things but the question often arises that are these her way of doing things which only further builds upon an almost vicious and iconoclastic cycle. A fact that has gotten her into trouble already with her belief that she and her clan are better served by her pursuing her own path rather than tying herself down in marriage to one clan or another to strengthen ties. That path, of course, was pursuing that very curiosity which saw her poke and prod at the workings of the world. She'd once had aspirations of joining the Zhufbar Guild of Engineers but fate, opportunity, and a little something else struck and put her on the path of a runesmith... Now with a certain, dangerous notion to try and wed the physical sciences with the mystical arts.

Stubborn, as all dwarf folk are, she's pursued this objective relentlessly with a certain dry wit at every step of the way to stave off the anxiety that comes with courting the guild, it's politics, and the ever growing demands of her apprenticeship. Each success threatening a certain inflation of her ego and pride to untenable levels while failure bringing with it a grim mood of reflection, re-evaluation, and recalculation as well as no small helping of ale.