[b]The man's face was pale, but not in a sickly way. It was white like snow. His eyes were old, but a icy blue. He rested a small cane on his knees, the head of which was a white wolf. His face was larger around the forehead and smoothly, even satisfyingly moved down and got smaller at a nice curved angle towards his small chin. A wicked scar crosses across his face, as if it was delivered only a few weeks ago. The man may have been in his fifties, if Rorek was any good at deducting such a thing.[/b] "Tell me, boy. Why are you here?"