A tall man sealed inside black plate armor veined with dull violet lines, Karev moves with the economical stillness of a hunting wolf. The armor's shoulders rise into subtle lupine ridges, while a narrow visor glows with a low purple radiance that never quite points where his head is facing. The plates are not glossy but have the texture of cooled volcanic glass, catching light in soft, bruised colors. A mantle of black wool hangs from his gorget and sheds no rain, dust, or blood. His unexpected feature is his hands: when the gauntlets are removed, they are carefully manicured and ink-stained, with the delicate fingers of a calligrapher rather than a brawler. Before he speaks, the armor gives a faint wooden knocking sound as he taps one knuckle against the other.