Korrin is a broad, slate-blue dragonling who seems to occupy a little more room than his frame should allow. He knows it, and habitually turns sideways in crowded passages, though he forgets when a story catches fire. Fine, pebbled scales cover his cheeks and throat; larger, overlapping plates along his shoulders have the dull sheen of rain-dark stone. His blunt jaw flexes visibly when he chews, and his small, stone-colored teeth show whenever he laughs. A thick tail, ridged like a weathered breakwater, swings behind him with emphatic punctuation. He moves with a steady, rocking gait, careful on dry ground and unexpectedly nimble on slick planks. The unexpected detail: he keeps a tiny paper windmill tucked in his collar and repairs it whenever its folded blades bend.

Korrin is generous with his strength and guarded with his worries. He loves a crowded table, a loud story, and being useful, yet grows uncomfortable when anyone tries to care for him in return. In a relaxed mood he is expansive and funny, his tail underlining every tale; when frightened, he becomes stubbornly practical and starts listing repairs instead of naming what he feels. He believes in stewardship, but sometimes confuses taking responsibility with carrying everything alone.

Korrin grew up on the storm-battered quays of Brineclack, a harbor district built around the now-failing trade of sailcloth weaving. His mother, Droma, repaired nets and taught him that a useful place is one people can return to. When he was young, a storm surge tore through the lower quay. Korrin tried to hold a sluice gate alone, refusing to call for help because he thought the neighbors already had enough to carry. The gate broke, flooding homes and ruining the last sailcloth loom. Afterward, the dockworkers took him in anyway, but one child had to be rescued from the roof of a dye shed. That failure changed his idea of stewardship: he still wants to be the one who holds fast, but now believes a wall is only strong when people brace it together. He works as a maintenance hand for the quay and is quietly organizing repairs before the next storm season. His friend and foreman, Phex, thinks Korrin is taking on too much; Droma is proud of him but worries that he treats rest as a debt he cannot afford.