This man emits an overpowering, almost regal aura. Everything about him screams of splendor, from the way he's dressed, to the way he walks. His silvery, blonde hair is groomed heavily and he keeps it to shoulder-length. Though white, the purity of color in his shirt is almost otherworldly; by no means ordinary, it can't be described as anything short of Alabaster in its pigmentation. In stark contrast, long tribal tattoo markings run down his muscular arms like stray fiends on a cold, moonless night. Round, rainbow colored glasses hide his gaze.


The assault on the senses that precedes this man is not only visionary but is also auditory. A storm cloud seems on fast approach wherever he goes, and ethereal tendrils from its core seem to pulse slightly as they lead to a gaudy guitar slung on his back. The instrument seems incredible in its artisanship, as though it was spit intact from the eye of a great hurricane. It seems to be powered, using the strength of the storm to strike a chord as loud as thunder.