Oren Thatch is a narrow, long-limbed human with the posture of a man permanently leaning toward a confession. His skin is weathered like old parchment, with faint soot stains embedded around his knuckles and beneath his fingernails. His movements are economical and almost gentle, yet he never seems to walk around an obstacle when he can make someone else move it. A pale scar crosses his throat from ear to collarbone, while a delicate silver chain circles the same neck like jewelry. He smiles with disarming warmth when discussing business, but his left hand trembles whenever he hears a child singing. The unexpected contradiction is that his clothes are immaculate and carefully tailored, while his boots are permanently caked with marsh mud.