I have no illusions about who I am, or what I have done. I have killed men in cold blood, raped women in front of both the living and dead. Torn infants from bosoms and tossed them upon spears, enslaved and slaughtered, pillaged, waged war, crushed dreams, desecrated monuments, and plagued the land I walk upon. Why then does death not seek me? - Traith
Intense, dark green eyes stare out from under long light brown eyebrows, moving about slowly as they seem to study everything with a dull, almost lifeless concern. The thin, shapely eyebrows of which he peers under are of a fine, light brown brushed gently on top of his pale, grayish skin. His pale skin causes him to look tired, worn, rotting, dead. It is not a white pale, as one who does not go into the sun, but contains a claylike grey to it, as a corpse an hour after its blood is gone. His intense green eyes, showing nothing but weariness, his light brown hair matted and torn from neglect, some of it turning a bit grey; despite the mans obviously youthful age. His nose is long with a strong, straight bridge, running down to a pair of lips that contain and even darker grey texture than his skin, dents and cracks cover their surface as though he has not drank water in many days, half of his bottom lip is missing, seeming to have been bitten off by some sort of animal. The entire left side of his face is ruined, seeming to have deep, heavy burns which warped the flesh, a scar runs across his forehead and nose. The other side containing two large holes at his cheek for a piercing of some torturous sort. His cheek bones are high and handsomely formed, giving him and almost exotic appearance as they slope down into a well formed jaw line, sadly ruined by his scars as well. A small layer of light brown hair, a five’o clock shadow covering it, pieces of hair seem to be missing as scar tissue stops it from growing further. While strong, his jaw always seems to be slightly slacked, just enough to barely part his lips as he breaths heavily; as though his lungs could barely keep him alive let alone standing. He stands at six feet two inches tall, his shoulders nearly three feet wide. There is obviously quite a bit of muscle on him, as his arms and legs are thick they not overbearing, allowing him to move about with ease and if not for his weary steps, grace. There is a deep aura around him, that anyone could easily feel when looking at him. It practically speaks out in a low melody. Talking of great suffering, pain, and a longing wish for deaths unwakeable slumber.