Tall and firm like a column carved from river stone, he moves with the slow precision of someone who has spent years balancing on wet timbers. His left forearm bears a faded tattoo of a tide-line and an oiled rope scar that starts at the wrist and disappears under his sleeve. He favors a travel cloak mottled in greens and grays that hides a quick smile and a scarred, brass-latched leather satchel. When relaxed he fiddles with a small carved bone token between his fingers. Unexpected element - his eyes glimmer pale blue and leak faint silver flecks when he laughs, as if moonlight lived in his gaze.