Physique:

Favarth is a strikingly thin man. An eerie appearance.

One only can wonder how such a  weak creature keeps standing. His voice rich, dark in hue, his hair black as the night, his form lanky from malnourishment. This fairly tall man, standing at a decent 1.80 meters (5.9 feet) of height, only bears a thin, curvy line of muscle over his bones, however no trace of fat could be seen. His light frame allows him to tread soundlessly, sometimes managing to pass unnoticed. His garb; rich, often made of good material, fine quality cloth or even velvet, although worn on the edges after the years of use. His clothing drapes widely over him and reinforce the general unworldly feel of his presence. Gloves cover his hands wherever he goes and he is often seen carrying a black, leather satchel, which contains all manner of tools a proper surgeon would own. Lately he has been seen using a cane with a wooden handle, though the object itself appears to have a more decorational purpose than actually practical when he is in health.

On Closer Inspection:

Paper-pale, gaunt cheeks, a long, raven-black mane and only a single expressionless, acid-green, left eye. Where his right eye should be, now lies a glass replacement of icy-blue, the two hues contrasting eachother in a less than pleasant manner. A deep, unsettling seam traces over his right eyelids, interrupting the smoothness of his young features. Only however seen when a strand does not escape the still order of his straight, needle-like hair.