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The accent, the clothing, all of the marks of a Prodigal that announced his heritage were carried with him when he saw his house sundered, his people slaughtered or fled and him with nothing except those who travelled the long road as a refuge with him. The initial shock mixed with the sometimes unfriendly reception made the transition harder than it had to be, but with the world fallen around him, the strength that was the Compact held an incredibly gravity all its own. One that offered a reprieve from the many questions of "Why?" Constantly moving through the principalities, it took time to find a place. Not the stone or wood that one could call home, but that sense of purpose that pulled one from self to something more. It helped that he did not undertake the journey alone, easing into the culture of the Compact, the people of Arx and the faith of the Pantheon. There are still hints of his origin about him, still a history that is hard to examine, but now there is Arx. And opportunity. And just a little bit of tomorrow.

His features suggest a story that rarely passes his lips; they are instead given to the ease of smiles. Whatever darkness is hinted by the scarring that touches him at brow and jaw, it's transmuted through the alchemy of his charm to something rakish and playful. His color is as warm as his manner, friendly and engaging. He stands tall, and while not powerful, there's a presence that animates his motions and projects beyond the space he occupies, one that invites others closer, to share the frequent smiles.

Olin is warm, convivial and given to easy laughter. Comfortable in the company of others, he listens with interest and enters into trade with abandon, his interactions never undertaken without a jovial smile. Whether through hard work, natural inclination or some combination of the two, he hews tightly to an open affability presented to those he associates with, only rare moments finding more contemplative expression.