From under the cowl of his robe you see his calm blank stare, deeper and colder than the depths of the sea, focusing on nothing, yet seeing everything. The corners of his dark eyes, like ebon pearls draining warmth and light from all that his gaze falls upon, are creased with age but have lost none of their malice with the passing of years. His thin lips are pale and belie the presence of life in the body of this man. His face, worn with time, does not stand out but you can sense hidden below the surface a great power that you can not put your finger on. A well trimmed salt and pepper beard frames his cruel, pale white toothed mouth. His short hair is black, like crushed charcoal, though wings of grey are beginning to show at his temples. Robes of impenetrable pitch black cloak his thin frame in darkness.