Smiles: 'So who named Braven Tooth, Sergeant?'

Fiddler: I did, after the bastard left one of his in my shoulder the night of the brawl. The brawl we all later denied happening. Gods, so many years ago, now...'I have no idea'(HoC, UK MMPB, p.302)

And there, seated alone at a table, was a monstrosity of a man.  Hunched over, tiny black eyes glittering beneath the shadow of a jutting brow.  Hairy beyond reason.  Twisted snarls exploding out from both ears, the ebon-hued curls wending down to merge with the vast gull’s nest that was his beard, which in turn engulfed his neck and continued downward, unabated, to what was visible of the man’s bulging chest; and too, climbed upward to fur his cheeks  -- conjoining on the way with the twin juts of nostril hairs, as if the man had thrust tiny uprooted trees up his nose -- only to then merge uninterrupted with the sprung hemp ropes that were the man’s eyebrows, which in turn merged neatly into the appalingly low hairline that thoroughly disguised what had to be a meager, sloping forehead.  And, despite the man’s absurd age -- rumored age, actually, since no one knew for certain -- that mass of hair was dyed squid-ink black.

He was drinking red-vine tea, a local concoction sometimes used to kill ants. (BH)