Short and spry like most halflings, but with a surprising, austere posture that suggests he once studied under a strict tutor. His left cheek bears a pale crescent-shaped scar that puckers the skin, a souvenir from a stage knife trick gone wrong. He walks with a quick spring in his step and a slight, unpredictable sway when tuning his lute. He keeps one sleeve rolled high to reveal a faded tattoo of a storming gull, an odd, sea-worn image for a landlocked halfling. Contradiction: his polished shoes are immaculate while his fingers are perpetually ink-stained from hurried scribbling of lyrics.