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Even in unpolished youth, this two-toned bronze has the promise of presence. He might have been merely a pale specimen, were it not for the heavy shadows that drip, as though wetly oozing, from the tenebrous ridges of his spine. That pattern, if it can truly be called such with its extreme irregularity, is unbalanced from one side to the other: absolute boundaries of dark swallowing light in some places, grisly smears to unite them in others. Though bright against their dark spars, his wingsails also bear the erratic splatters of arterial spray. He's a solid, strong creature, but age will whet his angles into ever sharper, ever harder lines, from his hooked muzzle down to his honed talons.