Trivv Lorent is lean and wiry, with a permanent expression of sad perplexity as if trying to ascertain some deep mystery that has saddened him. Though a sly smile may creep along his face, particularly as he is recounting a number of myriad tales of grandiosity, he always seems to have that knit to his brow that speaks of an inner tumultuousness.

Those who catch him walking the streets (And he walks the streets often) may not recognize him, as his appearance can vary greatly day by day. One day he may be garbed in fine silks and sashes, at ease in comfortable attire of expert design and intricate pattern, the next he may appear bedraggled, wearing tatters for clothes, garments that are worn and threadbare to the point of falling nearly apart. Adding to this mystery is the fact that while his messy ebon hair is recognizably of the same style most times, he might appear clean shaven one day, have a thick mustache the next, be missing eyebrows on yet the third with a well groomed beard, and the following day have thick bushy brows, a beard to his stomach, and a mustache that, while speaking, flies off to flutter away above the rooftops. This sometimes affords him some anonymity, but those who are aware of the cause for these strange and drastic shifts in his appearance can quickly become accustomed to spotting him.