Tall and lean with the slow, deliberate gait of someone used to staying unseen. His skin is pale with faint ink-blue veins visible at the temples. He wears a long, moth-eaten black overcoat lined with deep crimson silk. Around his neck hangs a thin braided cord of ironwood with a small polished tooth that seems to absorb the light near it. One unexpected element: his left cheek is covered in a precise lattice of old silver staples that hold a pale, rune-scarred patch of skin together, a relic of a bargain gone wrong. When he moves his coat whispers as if made of many small pages.