Garzoth moves with a surprising grace for a creature his size, his heavy hooves making a subtle rhythmic thud that echoes in stone chambers. His black-and-brown mottled skin ripples with scarred muscles under a coarse patchwork of leather straps and furs. Jagged tattoos in deep crimson wrap around his left arm telling the story of a lost kin. His horns curve outward and then forward, polished to a dull sheen, but their tips shattered jaggedly, giving him a perpetually battle-worn silhouette. Despite his feral visage and enormous frame, his eyes gleam with a rare softness and thoughtful flicker, often fixed on the distant horizon as if listening to unheard voices. Unexpectedly, he carries a delicate bronze pendant of an ancient weeping tree beneath his furs, the only trace of an almost forgotten past softened by tragedy.