Jorvan stands solid and imposing at nearly 6'3", his skin a rugged, deep tanned brown marked with weathered scars weaving across his forearms and upper chest like a chaotic tapestry of past conflicts. His once midnight-black hair has grown into a wild mane, kept in tightly woven braids that swing like a raven’s tail when he moves, yet one braid on the left side is inexplicably streaked silver as if struck by lightning. His piercing steel gray eyes hold the sharp vigilance of a hawk, reflecting a mind always calculating. When he moves, there’s a soldier’s discipline in his steps but also an unexpected fluidity that contrasts his brute frame, betraying a long-forgotten training in agile combat techniques. His darkened steel plate armor bears dents and scratches but it gleams faintly around dragon-embossed edges. On his back rests a massive shield, embossed with a dragon’s snarling head whose emerald eyes shimmer faintly, rumored to be enchanted.