Mordren is a broad-shouldered dwarf with the compact strength of a mason and the nervy movements of a ferret in a trap. His beard is kept in three uneven braids bound with copper wire and tiny black beads, but one braid is always frayed as if he has been yanking at it for years. His skin is weathered granite-gray with a faint sheen of soot in the creases, as though he has recently crawled out of a chimney. He dresses like a cautious burglar who has studied the manners of a noble, wearing dark fitted leathers beneath a surprisingly clean indigo vest embroidered with silver mountain motifs. The contradiction is his most memorable trait: his boots are scuffed to ruin, yet his cuffs are always neatly stitched and perfumed with lavender, as if he wants to smell like a guest while living like a rat. He keeps his shoulders hunched and his chin tucked, but his eyes are quick and bright, constantly measuring exits, locks, and lies.