An old merrowfolk, wise but worn.
Gialous, an old, happy man, slow to temper, quick to get tired. He has seen much and learned even more, yet he still has got that curiosity in his eyes, that bright flame no matter how deep he is in the sea. No one knows how long he has been around, but no one really cares either. Why would they, isn't it about the person and not the age?
A worn out robe and an even older looking walking stick, he doesn't seem to carry much more with him, except some pouches and trinkets.