Lord, does this man stink! Not of decay and death like so many in his obvious profession, mind you, but of an overpowering imported perfume. Sweet and exotic, the scent permeates the air with every movement of his sable-feathered wings, every swish of his trailing sleeves and coat-tails. Among his robes hang gaudy bangles, decorating his bony wrists, hands, and neck. He cuts an impressive figure, but all pomp cannot conceal a decidedly homely face: a hawkish nose and beady gray eyes lend him a rather unappealing visage.