Vorinthal moves like a whisper of shadow in a sunlit room — graceful but never fully at ease in the open. His skin is an obsidian silk, almost reflecting light like polished onyx, contrasting startlingly with eyes the color of liquid mercury, swirling constantly as if they see beyond this plane. His hair is a cascade of stark white dreadlocks, tied back with black cords embroidered with subtle silver runes. He wears supple, dark leathers interwoven with thin, iridescent spider silk threads, giving his attire an eerie shimmer that seems to shift depending on perspective. An unexpected mark is a small, faintly glowing brand — the sign of exile — emblazoned on the left side of his neck, normally hidden beneath his collar. Despite his dark heritage, he carries an oddly kind smile, never quite reaching his eyes, leaving those who meet him uncertain whether to trust or fear him.