This intrepid-looking man oozes an air of absolute cruelty and sadism about him. Though he doesn't look particularly fit for combat, his breath smells like iron and the rusted, callous tools he has by his sash could only provide a minute clue as to his career.

Stains of blood, dried and caked through repeated sessions have stained this man's leathery attire. His Shirt is loose-fitting but provides several options in the way of covering his body from the gore wrought forth from his onerous work.

His eyes and fingers twitch at the ready, and a perpetual smirk seems ready to split his jaws apart - a testament to the sick anticipation he holds for the grisly, painful work.