Vorbin stands just over 3 feet tall, with a wiry, almost brittle frame. His skin is mottled with faint purplish veins beneath a pale, sickly greenish-gray surface, a remnant of the blight that changed his people. His hair is silver-white, wispy and perpetually disheveled, as though the wind of dreams is caught in it. His eyes are a piercing, unnatural violet that seem to flicker when he speaks, sometimes emitting a faint shimmer like mist over water. His movements are unpredictable: at times delicate and sprightly in a typical gnome’s quick shuffle; at others, slow and deliberate, almost as if weighed by unseen forces. A curious contradiction is his faintly glowing tattoos running along his forearms—arcane sigils that pulse softly but are visibly scarred into his flesh, marking him as both cursed and gifted. He wears layered, patchwork robes of deep blues, silvers, and faded purples, interwoven with strange dream-crystals that hum faintly when touched. His fingers often twitch involuntarily, betraying a restless mind.