Starved-looking, tired, and in no mood for hagglers, this drow is entirely monochromatic save for his bright violet eyes that seem so lifeless.
While he lacks any real sign of aging like laugh lines or sunken eyes, he looks profusely aged. His eyes lack the light of curiosity or concern, and his posture is that of a man who has lost everything, even when standing in what is clearly an exotic sort of pawn shop that sees quite a fair degree of business from time to time.
He wears a tattered cloak and keeps the hood up to hide the back of his hair at all times, hair that has been cut sloppily, as if blindly with a blade, but left to grow out longer in the front. Besides the depressing black cloak littered with holes and various blood stains, he wears an old tunic and boots of a dark metal that reach his knees. He is unarmed eternally, and uneasy about close contact with others.