Death Guard Bhishak's presence was just as dreary and brooding as ever. A dark cape draped over his thin body, causing his dark black hair to disappear into its fabric's folds. His pale skin shimmered under the high moonlight, appearing sickly and unkempt. His gait was reminiscent of slinking shadow, fleeting into an out of existence with an odd jerkiness that somehow maintained a trance-like pattern.
Anyone who laid eyes on this man knew that he was a killer. No matter what happened, no matter what he faced or what befell him, his hand would always remain steady, his expression without ripple.
