Name: Ignatius Esquire XXII
Height: 6'1''
Weight: 170 lbs
Eyes: White
Head: Dull Brass

Beware all neat-freaks: this humanoid figure is dressed in ratty, brown, musty-smelling clothes that cover near every inch of his body. The loose fitting cloth and leathers appear to have large amounts of dust and ashen substances that linger on the fabric encasing him. Whenever he shakes a hand, whenever he pulls on a doorknob or takes a glass of fine liquor, his gloves leave behind sprinkles of ashes behind like a tapped out cigar.

His face is covered by a chain-masked helmet crafted from brass that was far overdue for maintenance. The holes in the chain that were set for the eyesockets is the only place that gave insight on just what manner of creature Ignatius was - and even then the details are only truly visible from a close distance. Both of his eyes are pure, milky white. The skin surrounding them is of a grey, ashen color, and the right side seems particularly damaged with cracks all over his face much like the fractured dirt of a thirsty wasteland.

Ignatius carries with him a few swords and several scroll cases, and while he does his absolute best to hold a tune while speaking, it often sounds like he is suffering from a painfully dry throat and he's particularly prone to bouts of violent coughs.

Arm in arm with the lingering smell of ash and dust.
Armed with a rasping croak befit well on death's door.
Garb tattered and worn and metal soured from rust.
Nary an ounce of self to shed by the sun - not hair nor nail nor pore.

A dip and a bow, an answer for those that inquire.
"Ignatius Wulfgang XXII," and 'fore he forgets, "Esquire."