Tall and lean in the graceful way of his people yet muscled where it counts. He moves with the quiet economy of an artisan. His forearms are banded with pale scars that glitter like healed seams when he works under the forge light. He always wears a soot-darkened leather apron over simple linen; clinking tools hang at his belt. When standing still he tilts his head slightly to one side as if listening for an unseen rhythm. Unexpected element - he keeps a small patch of wildflowers woven into the top of his apron that smell faintly of pine and vinegar.