Kell Ereptor

The man before you is tall, but not particularly heavyset - inasmuch as you can make out through the thick clothing in which he enshrouds himself. In the darkness of his hood, you can just make out the curve of a sardonic smile, and two dim red pools of light where his eyes ought to be.

He moves with a fluid grace, every motion firmly under his control, and something in his bearing, imposing though his figure may be, suggests friendliness - which is odd, since his mere prescence is vaguely disquieting, and he seems to involuntarily radiate an aura of quiet menace.