Zashier is a massive, hunched figure whose once-brilliant gold scales have faded to the color of tarnished brass and soot. He is perpetually veiled in a light dusting of flour and the scent of smoked paprika. He wears a pair of heavy, soot-stained iron spectacles perched precariously on his snout. Despite his age, his movements in the kitchen are a mesmerizing dance of efficiency, though he walks with a heavy limp in his left leg. His hands are thick and scarred by both battle and stove-burns, yet he handles a delicate herb-knife with the grace of a master duelist. The most striking element of his look is his tail, which he uses as a third hand to steady wobbling pots or fetch spices from high shelves.