A lithe, hunched figure barely over three feet tall, covered in sooty-black, iridescent feathers that are sleek in some places, bristled and patchy in others. His wings are small and stunted, jutting from his back like a crow with clipped pinions, useless for flight but expressive when agitated. His beak is chipped at the tip, often dusted with crumbs, and one eye is a muddy brown, the other a startling pale blue with a cloudy cataract. Thrissik carries himself with skittish, darting movements—sporadically bold, often halting, as if he expects to be caught stealing any moment. Despite dirty wraps on his feet and faded leather armor, he wears a child’s bright carnival mask atop his head, incongruously cheerful.