The titanic figure before you is thoroughly cloaked in a rolling scent of iron and cinder. As the distance between you narrows, you sense the oppressive atmosphere emanating from it, a byproduct of countless years of malicious toil for a design that escapes mortal understanding. A pair of sleek, scorched wings and eyes smoldering like embers give this towering creature a truly horrific appearance, belying the glint of ingenuity it keeps.

The creature appears to be masculine and preferring the sturdy style of armor a sadistic fighter would use in combat, with his plate is angular and vicious in its design, and it can withstand the constant fiery heat of the creature's skin.

When he speaks, his choice of words is careful, and even the slightest nuance is riddled with double meanings and insight. Every angle of this physically indomitable specimen seems to exude pride and confidence as if to suggest that not in a thousand years will you be able to stand as his peer. A slathering lackey, perhaps, is a role he may find agreeable.