There were plenty of names for it. The Tattooed Man, the Vandalized One, the Defaced. Most were male, which was in and of itself a misnomer; it always appeared as the same sex and roughly the same age to the person that beheld it.

As for the markings, they varied by the watcher too.

Kids would see someone with few or any markings, a fellow innocent with youth-flushed cheeks. But to older people…at first, the figure would seem to bear a number of strange tattoos or markings. But closer inspection would reveal that each was actually an etching of something that the observer had done in their life–always a misdeed. The Vandalized One displayed the sins of a lifetime carved into its very flesh.

As to what happened when you met it…well, that varied too. Those with few misdeeds, or children, would receive a curt salutation, a welcome mixed with a warning. Someone with more would be met with a simple question: “Do you regret it?” In their response, the person would have their fate in their hands. Enough people had escaped the encounter in that way to spread wildly contrary tales about it.

And a soul whose misdeeds were so voluminous that the skin of the Defaced was completely covered by an overlapping cyclorama of wretched inks? Suffice it to say that they do not return from the encounter.