A thin and frail figure clad in drab and unassuming clothing. Quite like so many others who've come off the ships from West Harbour of late.

At first glance he appears like any other refugee. But if you treat your self to a closer look the illusion of the mundane quickly fades. His face is riddled by pockmarks, scars and pustules. Some are brimming with pus while yet others appear filled with Father knows what else.