Description - -
He is a frail man.. much can be said of many men but in this case it is stated quite literally. His body has suffered over 80 years of abuse including disembowelment ('tis a long tale indeed), the deteriorating effects of majik and more. Still, he carries on. He is bowed slightly when tired and his skin looks as though it has been used for a rag and then stretched over him again carelessly. He is seldom seen that he is not clad in heavy, wool robes of a blue or red so dark it might be mistaken for black more times than not. Remove the black oaken staff from his grip and you may find that the hand holds no other form, for the staff has become as an extremity of the haggard man itself.
Think thoughts of refuse and wet, dark things that leave traces of filth in their wake and you have found his joy. Expect a smile, or a word of outright kindness, and you will wait long and be sorely disappointed. He is simple.. quiet unless spoken to. And for love of goddess, never let a threat find him that does not carry with it a fury likened unto the abyss.