Nadir is a gaunt river elf with pale blue skin washed through with faint green undertones, as though marsh-water lived beneath his flesh. His lank black hair hangs in greasy cords over narrow shoulders, and his orange eyes seem too bright for his tired face, always glittering with calculation or offense. He keeps a scraggly beard he never properly trims, and the beard often catches dust, saw filings, or the smell of old lamp oil. He walks with a pronounced limp, dragging one leg slightly and using a lacquered cane whose handle is polished smooth by years of nervous gripping. His clothes are expensive in theory and shabby in practice, layered with patched vests, stained waistcoats, and belts full of hidden pockets, yet he somehow still looks like a man trying to advertise wealth while resenting everyone who notices he is faking it. The strangest thing about him is that his ruined posture makes him seem smaller than he is, until he straightens in anger and the whole room feels suddenly crowded by his presence.