View source for Scrimshaw/Description

An older fellow fellow in his late fifties, standing just over six foot with fluffy salt-and-pepper hair. He's quite a salty character, missing most of his teeth and eyes in a permanent squint. His skin has been baked into leather, every crinkle in his face accentuated when he laughs. A beard like a brillo pad covers his face, and without his cap he is seen to be balding with numerous dents and scars upon his pate.

His stride is hunched from years of abuse upon the sea, but his beer-belly proceeds him as he walks, tottering forward with barrel chest protruding. Despite the round, top-heavy frame and lack of tone, his strength is belied by his broad shoulders and forearms cut with thick, ropy muscle.

There is a mirth to his voice, gravelly and baritone as it may be. It's a low growl with a thick northeastern accent to it, a whistle heard from the lack of teeth when he speaks certain words. His movement is purposeful and certain, wasting no time with deliberation.

His clothing varies depending on the weather, favoring knit tuques and peacoats when it turns cold and a simple broad-striped shirt and overalls when the sun comes out. He is rarely seen without his signature square rig cap to cover his poor skull, and his deck boots are worn even when he sleeps.