Mortimer Nightcutter is a tall, skeletal figure draped in an opulent black and gold suit that gleams faintly beneath the moonlight. His white ruffled shirt, though pristine, carries the faint scent of wilted marigolds—a reminder of the graves he once tended. From beneath his polished skull cascades a wild mane of bright orange, curly hair, glowing faintly like embers from a dying fire. His hollow eye sockets burn with eerie orange light, flickering with every breath of the night wind.

In his bony hands, Mortimer wields a massive pair of silver scissors, the blades whispering through the air like hungry spirits. Some say he uses them to harvest lost souls tangled in the veil between worlds; others claim he simply cuts the strings of fate for those who wander too far into his forest.