To any who hadn't seen Scrag before, he was an unimpressive sight.  He was small, with a slight hunch to his shoulders and just the hint of a gut forming at his middle. His face was pockmarked, his eyes pale and shifting, and his closely shorn hair already starting to go thin. He had a large pack on his back, and seemed uncomfortable with its weight, shifting his shoulders and fidgeting with the straps. He wore no armor, but those with a keen eye might have noticed the glyphs of warding tattooed to each of his forearms. He bore no weapons save a small dagger on his hip, and a rod of some sort of pale material that he kept nervously fidgeting with.