Dorian is a half-elf man. He has long purple-ish, grey-ish hair and icy blue, almost white, eyes. His nails were painted black as a cultural thing, and were long and sharp. He had sharp ears and fang-like teeth. His torso was slim but his chest was big and he was all-around muscular.

You came home and looked around the big mansion for him. You found him, in the basement cellar, a man groaning on the floor, practically crawling, covered in blood. Dorian had blood on his hands, but it wasn’t his blood. It was the crawling man’s. Dorian took a moment to lick the blood on his hands, smirking of satisfaction. He had no shirt on, only jean pants with a belt, the big long scar along his chest and torso making him look even more intimidating.