Garven stands with a lanky yet wiry frame, his movements quick but uneven, like a cat learning to stalk. His skin, sun-kissed and streaked with old grime and smudges of ash, almost seems to absorb light rather than reflect it. His dark brown hair is tangled in clumps, often overshadowing a faded, crooked scar running down the right side of his face. His most contradictory feature is his eyes: a vivid icy blue, clear and sharp — unnervingly bright compared to his otherwise dull and unkempt visage, giving an impression that beneath his simple mind, something watches and calculates. He wears mismatched leather armor patched hastily with dragon-scale fragments, layered over a soot-stained crimson tabard bearing the five-headed dragon sigil of Tiamat. His gait is hesitant but purposeful, and when he moves in combat, there’s a twitchiness that betrays nervousness beneath his outward fervor.