Pravus is a jaded international citizen who has supped from every perversion.
His reasons for attendance are his own; but what could a gathering of fellow hedonists provide that he has not experienced a hundred times before?

Pray you aren't the one to find out.

He is a swarthy man of Grecian descent with vibrant, dark eyes framed by tendrils of his salt-n-pepper mane of hair. He is always impeccably dressed in suit and tie with gleaming black shoes. A half-smile almost constantly rests on his lips. His right hand possessively clutches a silver satyr's head that rests atop a cane of solid ebony; the figures of writhing couples carven onto it's surface.