Gale moves like someone used to hauling and bargaining rather than dancing. He wears a battered leather apron over a collared shirt whose sleeves are always rolled to just below the elbow. His hands are broad, callused, and stained with oil and gunmetal. A long vertical scar runs from his left temple to the cheekbone, pale against weathered skin. He favors practical boots with iron toes that clack on flagstone when he walks. Around his neck he keeps a thin copper chain with a flattened coin from Riverforge hammered into it. Unexpectedly, he always has a small sprig of dried rivergrass tucked behind his ear, swaying when he tilts his head.