A lean man whose motions are precise like a practiced calligrapher. His skin bears a scatter of faint, scale-like iridescent scars along his forearms and jawline that catch light like beaten copper. He wears a long slate-gray robe embroidered with mismatched copper thread, the stitching looser where he has repaired it himself. Around his neck hangs a small glass ampoule of swirling green liquid, half-emptied and burn-scarred, sloshing quietly when he moves. He favors a crooked quarterstaff topped by a carved dragon's maw that drips a single persistent bead of resin-sweat. Unexpected element: when Garron laughs, he briefly emits the smell of lemon peels and salt, as if the laughter were seasoned.