A tall, sinuous dragonborn whose scales shimmer between pewter and a faint starry indigo when light catches them. Syrath moves with a deliberate, knife-edge economy of motion; every gesture is precise as if he measures the arc of his limbs with a quill. His left shoulder is rimmed with tiny burn scars that form a delicate spiral pattern tattooed in silver ink. He favors long, high-collared robes that leave his forearms bare so his hands—long, ink-stained, and ringed with narrow signet scars—are always visible. Contradictory to the austere scholar look he keeps a battered traveling cloak slung over one shoulder that smells faintly of old paper and smoked cedar and bears a stitched-on theater patch with a laughing comet.