Korentin is a handsome young adult-male T'skrang of somewhat above average height for the breed, his lean build saved from being just short of cadavorous by virtue of the rangy muscle that clean living and steady lungfuls of good, fresh mountain air have gradually built up on his lanky frame. His head is almost aquiline, streamlined and alert in form and impression, whilst eyes of an almost vibrantly bright yellow-gold gaze out from his narrow, elegant features with a decidedly judgemental air, seeing much and quite obviously approving of little, which is needless to say, somewhat out of character for one of the gay-hearted wandering riverfolk.

 His hide is a deep dark green colour verging on black, the difficulties of staying moistened in high altitudes having long since given the softer patch under his jaw a curiously rough texture that would put many in mind of stubble, were he of a species inclined to hair growth, whilst his tail is long, slender and generally static, held still and close to his body, as unexpressive as a poker-face.

 Further to his unusual demeanour, he has chosen rather than the bright colours and silks of a traditional T'skrang sailor, to wear darker shades that match his complexion, carefully formed heavy leather armour cured from some unimaginable mountain predator giving him the optimum protection without impeding his motions more than the minimal amount, covering his limbs and torso snugly, whilst the one splash of brightness about the dour figure is the silver-chased wolf-fur cloak and collar trim that is plainly meant to ward away the heaven's chill.

 At his hip rests a sword of presumably oil-blackened steel, but rather than being long and slender in the traditional T'skrang she (as the bearer is happy to identify her) has a certain antique heaviness in the blade that suggests an intent to chop, the hilt almost aggressively plain and counterbalanced by the heavy and serrated Vorst-manufactured dirk on the other side of his belt. Of jewelery or finery there is none, evey inch of his garb severe and practical - even his boots are good, dark leather with rope-shod soles, designed to provide grip on rain-slick decks without scarring the wood.

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 Black is that rarity, a T'skrang Sky Raider. A capable medic and good tactican, his most notable skillset is a genuine and profound gift with the ancient black sword he never permits himself to be parted from.