Description: Austin isn't the most handsome branch of the...branch...bunch? Bunch of branches? Sure. We'll go with that. He definitely fell far, far from the top of the ugly tree. And he sure hit plenty of ugly branches along the way. It's pretty unfortunate, really. He looks pretty unfortunate.
He's naturally lanky and spindly, like a bean pole, but looks like he does a lot of push-ups to compensate. Only a more ambitious upstart would think to try his luck against him. Especially coupled with his natural swagger and cartoonishly confident smirk.
But his face, it's really too bad--to start, a poor mouth-to-face ratio, accented by caterpillar eyebrows and snaggleteeth that turn into a jack'o'lantern whenever he grins. Which is often. He really needs to do something about those teeth.
As per his dress, he wears common clothing day-to-day, but keeps it unusually well-kept and properly fitting; it looks like it was tailored specifically for his figure.

Personality: Austin is a bombastic and larger-than-life fellow. He rarely takes himself seriously regardless of the situation. He's great to have around at a party-not so great at your aunt Meredith's funeral, probably. Not one to settle down, he frequently looks anxious when not in control of the situation, fidgeting about like a child at a school desk.
He moves about with an almost cartoonish smirk and swagger, exuding confidence wherever he goes. He's a right positive force in the world, really! Albeit suffocating at times-and at others, something is definitely off about it, as if he's grabbing for attention, or simply doesn't care to hear what others around him are thinking.

Background: Austin is not terribly well-known outside of his personal circle; he grew up the son of dirt-farmers, scrabbling to provide for their family. His brothers became petty thugs; his sisters became either disreputable, or married off quickly to any man who could piss in a pot. Austin, however, had no intention of living in squalor.
Growing up, he viewed his peers as petty, reckless fools, and had little love for them, regarding them as more children than proper adults. Thankfully for him, he also found that they rallied around any figure who could make an empty promise--also like children.
He took his time sowing his wild oats in the lower boroughs of Arx. Those who know him know of his past of petty thievery--and the occasional transfer of currency from the pockets of others into his own. He was known to associate with criminals of various levels of repute. Often, he recruited other young folk to help carry out his dirty deeds, most desperate to make something of themselves despite their dismal life prospects.
But thankfully, by some miracle, he straightened himself out by his young adulthood to enter legitimate social circles. He clawed his way into the middle class by gathering a small company of sell-swords and hirelings, known as the Letters of Marque, which he still operates out of the lower boroughs to this day.