Muscle winds about his figure tightly, and ripples beneath the cloth of his tunic with every motion. Grace lightens his feet, every careful step measured like a dance. His pale green eyes are narrow, the lids heavy, and the lashes thick and dark. He sweeps his fair hair to one side, and a longing smile slowly spreads across his face should he lay eyes on a lovely women. And to him, all women are lovely.

Not a scar marrs his image.