Sszorn moves with a sinuous grace that belies his wiry frame, almost like a shadow slinking through the dark. His features are sharply angular, a mix between rat and humanoid: a slender snout tapered by twitching whiskers, cruel yellow eyes that shimmer with unsettling intelligence, and a shock of coarse dark brown fur that sparsely covers parts of his face and neck. His hands are narrow and nimble, the nails dark and needle-sharp. Contradictorily, he always keeps his meticulously maintained robes perfectly clean and pressed, despite his cult’s foul reputation and his own revelries in filth. Interwoven with dark leather plates, his robes gleam oddly in dim light, reflecting a jeweled emblem of Defilia on his breastplate. When he moves, there’s a restless jitter—an unspoken tension beneath calm composure, as if every muscle anticipates betrayal or opportunity.