Zilvar t'J-ene's-isa moves through the falling night with a grace that belies his solid six-and-one-half foot frame. The wolf moves through the deepening shadows with a quicksilver ease. In the failing light, you can see that his eyes are a brilliant blue, the perfect color of a cut sapphire.
This one carries a bit of the night around him, a sense of things better left undisturbed. The wolf is wearing a pair of plain black pants, complete with a thin belt. His shirt is a deep, forest green that he wears buttoned about halfway. A small belt pouch hangs from his belt. Strapped across his back is a sword, the hilt poking over his right shoulder.