Jorren is a slender tiefling with pale ash-gray skin that has the dry, powdery texture of old charcoal. His swept-back obsidian horns are ridged like burnt tree roots, and one bears three brass tally marks cut into the surface. His dead, expressionless eyes rarely blink, giving the unsettling impression that he is always waiting for someone else to reveal a weakness. He moves with almost noiseless economy, never quite seeming to place his feet where observers expect them. His dark charcoal leather garb fits like a second skin beneath a high-collared matte-black cloak that seems to swallow torchlight rather than reflect it. The contradiction is in his hands: they are small, elegant, and meticulously moisturized, with immaculate nails and the soft appearance of a court clerk's hands, despite the violence they have performed. He leaves behind an impression of cold ash, sealed documents, and a room that has suddenly become too quiet.