Brask Vörszk is a lean, long-limbed tiefling who seems to fold himself into whatever space he occupies. He stands with his shoulders angled and one heel raised, as if perpetually listening for water beneath the floor. His movements are quiet but not graceful. He advances in small, exact adjustments, then suddenly crosses a room with startling speed. His curled black horns are polished at the tips from years of rubbing them while thinking, while the bases are dusted with pale mineral grit from the sewers. His tail is thick at the root and unusually still, except when someone lies. Despite his hard mercenary clothing and watchful expression, he keeps a tiny stitched blue ribbon tied around one wrist, a childish and unexpectedly delicate detail that clashes with the rest of him.