You see GameMaster Paklin Shriv, an Elven Tavern Owner.
He has blood-shot eyes, spiky black hair with a splash of red that desperately needs a comb, and darkly tanned skin. Paklin has transcended time, give or take a few years.
He has a tattoo of a shiny keg being drug along by a Gnome on the back of his neck.
He is in good shape, for a change.

He is holding a flagon of Paklin's lager in his right hand.
He is wearing some pretty plain trousers, a frayed and stained white cotton shirt, an ebony leather shoulder satchel depicting the image of a pile of kegs, an ebony leather-wrapped telescope case, some shabby work boots that reek of stale beer, a shabby brewer's smock, a small tattered book engraved with the words "The Complete Idiot's Guide to Brewing Beer" and a shimmering ebony tankard hanging from a spidersilk cord.