Sahir Vael Shalmir has the lean, weather-cut look of someone raised on docks and sea wind rather than court halls. He is a young elf with sharp features, high cheekbones, and striking storm-blue eyes that seem a little too bright when he’s angry or focused. His dark hair is thick and windswept, usually falling messily across his brow as if he’s just come off a long watch on deck.

He wears practical, saltworn clothing layered for travel: a pale tunic, weathered leather straps, and a deep blue cloak draped over one shoulder like a sailor’s mantle. The cloth is frayed in places, but cared for. A shell-and-cord fastening and small seafaring details in his gear hint at his life in Port Paelios and the reefs of Bakketra. His hands are callused from ropework, though faint sparks sometimes dance across his fingers when he’s tense.