A round-faced elf with a perpetual, open-hearted grin. His cheeks are dimpled, hands perpetually dusted with flour and ale foam, and his ears peek from under a mop of unruly copper hair—slightly too short for most elves, trimmed for practicality. He moves with the small, efficient rhythm of someone used to carrying heavy trays: not graceful like a woodland elf, but steady and comforting. His shoulders bear a faded burn scar across the left collarbone—hidden beneath shirts but visible when he laughs and leans back. Unexpectedly, his almond-shaped eyes have a quick, hawk-like sharpness that flashes when he counts coins or sizes up trouble; it contradicts the rest of his merry, homey bearing and hints at a past where observation meant survival.