Against the sea of monsters, miracles, and maddening beauty around him, Dynamus is forgettably mundane. He is neither startlingly handsome nor powerfully built. His hair is a mousy, muted brown, and always worn down. His demeanor is sedate and distant, bordering on cold.  If nothing else, he is immacuately clean-shaven.

Although the heavy robe he is wearing seems drab at a glance, it is littered with intricate ornaments. The jewelry has some kind of mystical significance, but they lack any real power and are only valuable because of the precious metals which comprise them.

Several notebooks, ragged with use, are chained to his belt. They are etched with the same ceremonial pattern that his other accoutrements carry.

Anything goes. Bring unto me even death and fates worse than death.

I am prepared to meet all possibilities with the sincere, realistic reactions of my character. I enjoy a good story (a good tragedy even better) and you do not need my consent to make permanent changes.

I am not squeamish. I am not prudish.

In your talons, you shape clay.