His unkempt shag coat is an antique-porcelain base, saturated in a hood and cloak of light gold, and peppered richly with guard hairs of umber and bronze. The tarragon's eyes are chestnut, vehement in their lambency and inborn abettors to his desert-empty manners. The rest of him is composed of a sinister wiriness, latent with raw might, and made to endure, if not impose. Like a whetted lance -- long, gleaming, and wicked -- he is an embodiment of strife; touting his arrogance with a plodding gait and toothy grimace. The consequences of this are made explicit upon closer inspection, wherein his body could be used as a case study for clear signs of brawling. Most notably there are a bevy of fangmarks tattooed across his legs, and terrible scars are strewn charitably along the length of his spine, some more visibly than others.