Rorek is a tall, hulking orc whose every movement feels measured like a ship trimming its sails. His skin is weather-creased and salted by sun and spray; deep ridged scars run from temple to jaw where a boarding knife once failed to kill him. His left forearm is an iron prosthetic of hammered plates and articulated joints—brass gearwork exposed where seawater has eaten the plating—fitted with a grapnel hook and a blunt ram. He wears a long, oilskin captain's coat embroidered with the faded sigil of Sentinel's Perch over a heavy linen shirt and sea-leather harness. At his hip hangs a blunt cutlass and a chain-whip; tucked beneath his coat is a battered ledger and a brass whistle. He moves with the slow certainty of a tide; when he speaks he leans forward as if into a wind. Unexpectedly, he keeps a small, sea-smooth pebble tied in a leather thong under his collar—worn not as a talisman but to press between his teeth when he must control a laugh or a curse.