Shaggy, dark-umber hair falls in short disarray around rough-hewn, angular features, hidden in shadow beneath a jet cowl. A stubbled, set jaw, almost always clenched in some form of vexation or another, accompanies a frowning glower and guarded stance. Rising to 6ft, broad-shoulders framed by black fitted shirt and pants leave no illusion to the sinewy build beneath; sun-kissed and rugged, marred with nugatory scars here and there. Spiraling tattoos trace the length of his right arm, the inky tendrils stretching across his shoulder and right peck. Only his eyes betray the demeaner of austere calibre; smouldering, compelling and cobalt blue, they are the rare window into glimpsing past the stoical guise.
P
syche.
Guarded and aloof, Darkmask remains coldly isolated from the world. The epitome of self-discipline and control he fears mortal attachments and emotional vulnerability; keeping everyone at bay with a tongue of venom. A true neutral, Darkmask holds no allegiance to the good or evil of the world, instead following his own personal code and is willing to cross either line to achieve his goals. A man of little words, he watches from the shadows, observing details most never notice.
