Savin is a massive human man with the proportions of a siege engine, broad through the shoulders and thick enough around the waist to make doors look undersized. He moves with startling quickness for someone so huge, often crossing a room in two abrupt strides and stopping with one heel lifted like a dancer. His knuckles are ridged with old scars, his nose has been broken at least twice, and a pale seam runs from his left ear to the corner of his mouth. His usual expression is a theatrical scowl, but his eyes are bright and privately amused, as if every confrontation is part of a joke only he understands. The unexpected softness is his carefully maintained mustache, which he waxes into two absurd little hooks before important fights.