Jorun is a man whose half-elven grace has been weathered by decades of brine and gale. His skin is the color of old parchment soaked in tea, mapped with fine lines of salt-scarring. His left eye is a milky, clouded orb that seems to stare into a different dimension, while his right eye is a piercing, intelligent sea-green. He moves with a rolling, liquid gait as if always compensating for a ship's pitch. Surprisingly, beneath his heavy, salt-stained oilskin duster, he wears a pristine, emerald-green silk doublet that smells faintly of expensive lavender, a stark contrast to the scent of fish and tar that otherwise clings to him.