At six foot, seven inches, Jubilex towers intimidatingly over most others.
Broad of shoulder and chest, he cuts a ludicrous muscled figure that is prone to darkening doorways and reducing lesser men into trembling, wet-pantsed cowards.
He is, unmistakably demonic.
The blood coursing powerfully through his veins has wrought several typical traits, including horns, chipped and scarred from eternities of battle; cloven hooves, leading up to a pair of corded and muscular thighs; and a spaded tail.
This towering demonic specimen, though, stands apart from most of his breed. While he certainly has the standard bearing of his race: obsidian eyes, mostly devoid of emotion, brawny muscle and a certain blood lust, best sated on the field of battle, he manages to effect a sort of charm that shows forth in his demeanor.  
He’s unmistakably handsome, which has proven both a blessing and a curse. Sometimes genteel in nature, his calm baritone voice belies his demonic bloodlines. That is, until he’s driven to anger, when the guttural slur of abyssal rips from his throat in a menacing and sometimes unintelligible growl. It’s then that one would be wise to make for the hills. This is truly when the beast comes forth and one wrong word or misguided action is liable to cause the loss of limbs, or even one’s head.