Jarvis is a lean, medium-sized aarakocra with deep rust-red feathers on his head and shoulders, charcoal-gray flight feathers, and pale gold markings around his eyes. His hooked beak gives him a scholarly, hawk-like profile. He dresses in layered blue-gray robes secured with bright copper clasps, leaving his wings free, and carries a small prayer book in a weatherproof case. His movements are precise and economical, but his wings twitch whenever he is thinking through a difficult problem.

Jarvis is observant, patient, and intensely curious. He listens as if every conversation were a theological puzzle, then answers with unsettling precision. He is polite to almost everyone, but his politeness becomes formal and chilly when he suspects superstition, hypocrisy, or careless thinking.

Jarvis hatched among high cliff monasteries where aarakocra custodians watched the skies for signs of elemental disturbance. His earliest memories are of wind bells, incense smoke, and elderly priests arguing over the proper interpretation of omens. He was expected to become a careful archivist, and his remarkable intellect made him an excellent student of theology, celestial history, and forbidden magical theory. Yet the first time he read aloud from a damaged hymn tablet, the air inside the sanctuary bent toward him, extinguishing every candle except the one before the altar. The priests interpreted the event as a blessing, but Jarvis recognized something less orderly in it. His magic did not feel like prayer. It surged from instinct, emotion, and some unseen current that answered him before he knew what he wanted. Rather than condemn him, the monastery sent him into the wider world to study the difference between divine power, arcane force, and personal conviction. Jarvis now travels as both acolyte and investigator, carrying his temple's questions with him. He seeks evidence rather than certainty, believing that the truth should survive examination from every direction.