The ranks of mages before him part, and from them comes forth a man half-feline, twisted like a Changeling but too perfect and beautiful for the changes to be anything but deliberate, self-controlled. Gold-green slit-pupilled eyes, fanged canine teeth, a huge tawny golden mane; black robes over black armor, showing no skin but the head and hands as magecraft requires. The man's fingers terminate in claws just a little too long and sharp curved to be human fingernails cut that way.
A taint of blood-magic flows from him, bespeaking a mage of power, perhaps more powerful than Vanyel himself.