Marion possesses deep violet skin and horns that curve back like the prow of a ship. He wears faded naval coats and loose linen shirts, often stained with sea salt. His eyes are an unsettling solid black, lacking any iris or pupil, which he usually hides behind a heavy hood or dark goggles when in port.

Marion is remarkably calm even in the face of a hurricane, maintaining a sailor's relaxed gait and a sharp, cynical wit. He talks to the wind and waves as if they were old friends, and he treats his magic more like a set of rigging that needs occasional adjustment than a divine gift.

Marion Violet was born to a family of tiefling tailors but felt the rhythmic pull of the tides from his first breath. He spent his youth working on the Violet Dawn, a merchant vessel. During a catastrophic shipwreck in the middle of a dead calm sea, Marion sank into the lightless depths of the ocean floor. There, he heard the voice of a presence far older than the gods. It was a cold, echoing consciousness that promised him the surface world back in exchange for his service as an anchor for its thoughts. He woke up three days later on a beach, dry as a bone and smelling of ozone and saltwater. Since that day, he has wandered the coastlines, performing the bidding of his submerged master. He works as a sellsword and guide, using the terrifying gifts granted by the deep to navigate social waters as easily as he once navigated the ocean. He still keeps his name as a reminder of the life he lost, even as his shadow begins to take on a life of its own in the moonlight.