An Empty Throne
This man looks like he is in his mid thirties, possibly late twenties. It’s hard to tell because he squints a lot, a weathered face worn from a life spent outside. Upon closer inspection he is obviously a half-elf, sun tanned and with auburn hair worn in a pony tail, tied with a leather knot behind his head. He is moderately tall, at 5’9 he doesn’t tower over anyone but he manages to occupy a certain amount of space beyond his physical boundaries. His presence demands to be noticed. With a broad, powerful chest and muscular arms that end in calloused hands this is a man used to hard, physical labour, possibly even combat. His face isn’t dirty but it hasn’t seen a wet cloth in a day or two, dust and sweat are noticeable features, looking like they belong just as much as his nose and eyes. He wears minimal facial hair, it doesn’t look like he can grow much more than a bit of stubble.
He wears a thick leather coat that clanks and creaks with metal as he moves, suggesting it has some hidden armored properties. Not hidden at all, a beautiful bronze breastplate with motifs of animals locked in struggle covers his chest underneath the leather coat. His only armament seems to be a sturdy kukri from one side of his belt, and a quiver of arrows hanging from the other.