Broad-shouldered and deliberate in movement, he carries the slow confidence of someone who has measured risk his whole life. His scales shimmer like spent embers, a deep russet with faint veins of molten gold that catch light when he turns. A long, shallow scar runs from his left brow ridge down the cheek, crossing plated scales and leaving a line of pale, polished bone. He favors a heavy cloak frayed at the hem, and always wears a narrow brass band around his left forearm engraved with an old company's sigil. Unexpectedly, he keeps a bouquet of dried fire-lilies tucked into the inside of his breastplate, petals curled and blackened but carefully wrapped in oilcloth.