" A Gentleman, Is Simply A Patient Wolf. "

Appearance:

A shady figure stands beneath a dim, sullen lamp light. His rough, rigid face outlined with bags of missed sleep. The man stands tall regardless, with stubborn purpose.

Face:

This young man always seemed to carry a wide, honest grin over his scruffy, bearded face, an ever pleased side kicked smirk due to his fruitful life. Angular and youthful in appearance, this man's face was shaped handsomely and worn with constant happy-go-lucky expressions. However, there was some sort of social awkwardness about him as though he hadn't spent a great deal of time with others.

Hair:

As expected, Mason's hair was a tangled mess of bed head, shot off in an effortlessly fashionable angle to the left. The raven black mop was always kept clean enough despite his unsightly appearance to some, even smelt abit of roses.

Eyes:

That stare. It was so perverse how it read, and calculated. His brilliant whirlwind of ocean blue eyes sunk into yours, neither piercing or reserved. All cards were on the table in his thoughtful stare, like a pane of glass being the only barrier to the cog works of his mind. That being said; his gaze was collective, taking easy measures of your own inner workings just as hungrily as a wolf would claim it's feast.

Skin:

Mason was a younger fellow, reaching late adulthood, maybe; so the number of nicks and scars upon his sun kissed flesh was somewhat questionable. However, each little reminder of wrinkled flesh was just that, little. As if each weapon had only grazed his skin, not a single massive strike could be sighted upon his sculpted figure.

Body\Build:

Mason, a younger male dawning into his prime. The man was an athlete for sure, sporting sizeable toned muscles across every length of his perfectly proportioned, contoured form. For a human, he possessed a poised and calculated grace, each step sure footed, each movement like water from a cup. Though his body, heavily armoured as it was; was a tool, a weapon even, and he was in full control of his 6'4, 232lbs.
Many tattoos cover his body, mostly tribal markings of no meaning.

Attire:

Worn leathers and aged cloth, with an occasional bit of heavy-set iron. Mason seemed to have strolled right out of some nearby gutter at times, a slum dog for sure. Each piece was unique though, likely having been damaged and re-fitted to further display of a rag-tag warrior. Regardless, somehow Mason managed to keep it all in practical, functional order.

Jewelry:

The only jewelry on Mason would be a simple silver piercing in his left ear, aswell as a thin, weathered rope around his neck. Hanging from the rope would be a small, worn, scratched pendent. Despite the condition, it's still recognized as a small leaf. When standing idle, he's more then often seen holding it within' the grip of his hand, even when still hung around his neck.

Traits:
-Optimistic
-Witty
-Sincere & Sarcastic
-Reliable