(Pronounced "Dow-in". Those who speak such will recognise the name as the Elven word for 'star'.)

Standing at an even six feet tall, this figure bears the trappings of a spellcaster, though it is perhaps not as flaunted as one would expect. Possessed of a winsome grace and fine, fair skin, it is obvious that he is a product of the relatively uncommon union between an elf and a human. He has the solid presence and handsome musculature that one would associate with a particularly comely human male, though his face wears the chiseled, acquiline beauty of an elf -- if tempered by a slightly stronger jawline. His hair flows to his shoulders, raven-black, though little care seems to be given to its styling or its decoration, save a single black feather belonging to a raven or crow that hands down by his left ear.

Dressed in a distinctly martial fashion, a combination of fine black cloths and shiny black leathers, one would think this figure a rogue were it not for the scroll-pouch attached to his hip -- or often, the staff in his grip. Though it seldom sees the light of day, a long and decorative scabbard at his hip carries a blade of some sort possessed of an obscenely beautiful handle and hilt wrought from mithril or perhaps truesilver.

His gaze is one of significance, an uncommon passion shines from his elven-green eyes, flecks of gold handsomely catch the light to lend those eyes a fire. The intentions behind that gaze are mysterious, though one would suspect that -- absent wings, horns, reverse-jointed legs or claws -- he is a force for good on this debauched plane. Of course, that is all speculation.