"All things are subject to interpretation. Whichever interpretation prevails at a given time is a function of power, not truth."

Imposing. The one word describes fully the man that stands before you now, muscular, tall, large hands and broad shoulders, with a face hidden in the shadows of a dark tattered cowl. Imposing. What else describes such a physique? Manly perhaps, but few other words come to mind other than the sheer primal instinctual words that the mind tries to keep hidden away in secret from the waking conscience. Words like fear, desire, envy - words that society tells them to keep hidden away, and yet the mere presence of such a statuesque individual slaps society away and drags those words out from the deepest corners where they were locked up.

Standing nearly at seven feet tall the dark cowled figure stuck out in a manner of which he seemed almost unreal. Muscles slid beneath smooth onyx skin, that physique having been created as an image of perfection, but time had left it flawed. Long scars from years of battle covered that smooth skin, carving crevasses and canyons in that stone colored flesh, marring it's perfection. Thick deltoids rounded out the man's broad shoulders, arms obviously fit and trained for warfare from the muscular bulk of them. His pectorals gave way to sculpted abs and teasing obliques that dipped down in a line beneath the waist of the dark pants that figure wore, giving a line for the eyes to follow down to his groin - a bulge which was barely contained by the tattered black pants he wore. His legs, as muscular as the rest of him (one would imagine), were hidden by the clothes he wore - in fact, the most common flesh ever exposed of the male was his chest, the rest hidden behind a covering of cloth, metal, and ornamental bone.

From head to toe that large figure was cloaked in tattered black cloth, a thick black hood obscuring his face from view and a long open black shirt clothing his torso. A pair of pitted black steel pauldrons gripped his shoulders bearing sharpened spikes jutting out at all angles, the space between the two over his chest covered by a brass and bone fitting - a sigil in the middle appearing to be made up of jaw bones fused to a central sternum - macabre sigil of primal strength if there ever was one. His back was covered from view at almost all angles, a thick black cloak resting, held in place by those massive sharp spaulders - that cloak concealing his back for view of any wings or tails that may lay there, unless (if there were any) they came out.