Skarrath has the low, broad body of a colossal scorpion, but eight muscular tentacles replace his legs and ripple beneath him like black ropes dragged through deep water. His carapace is layered in overlapping plates that resemble hammered iron glazed with oil, each ridge catching colors that are not present in the room. His front pincers rest near his chest and can unfold into long, straight voidblades with edges too thin to reflect light. When he uses them as hands, each pincer splits into three precise chitinous digits. He moves with unnerving silence for something so large, then suddenly crosses a room in a blur of whipping limbs. Within a minute of meeting him, people notice that his eyes do not look at faces. They settle instead on throats, wrists, doorways, and the hands of anyone carrying a weapon. The unexpected contradiction is his careful tenderness with small objects. He handles children's toys, letters, and delicate glassware with the patience of a jeweler, even while discussing massacres.