Coren is a lean, elegant wood elf whose movements are so economical that he seems to arrive before the eye notices him traveling. His autumn-amber hair is tied loosely at the nape, with stray strands caught in tiny bronze seed pods. His sharp green eyes constantly track exits, wind shifts, and the positions of everyone nearby. A lightweight cloak woven from living, dormant moss rests over his shoulders, its nap shifting from russet to deep green to gray-brown with the seasons and with Coren's mood. His skin has a warm copper tone dusted with pale freckles resembling lichen. He wears supple black-brown leather armor decorated with delicate Sylvros leaf-filigree. The unexpected contradiction is his hands: elegant and soft-looking at first glance, but heavily scarred across the knuckles and fingertips from years of climbing iron watchtowers and dismantling Azimut restraint mechanisms. He leaves an impression of quiet woodland grace interrupted by the unsettling sense that every nearby branch is listening with him.