Valerius stands with a rigid, unnatural grace, his skin the color of aged burgundy wine. His horns are his pride; polished obsidian that curves elegantly back over his head, tipped with small gold rings. He has a narrow, predatory face with high cheekbones and a sharp, pointed goatee. He smells of expensive sandalwood and sea salt. His movements are slow and deliberate, as if every step is a calculation of cost versus benefit. His eyes are solid pools of molten gold with no pupils, making it impossible to tell where he is looking. Surprisingly, his tail is stumped and scarred, hidden beneath his silks, a secret shame from a childhood accident that contrasts with his otherwise flawless facade.