Oculama

He's indescribable, he's transcendental, but if you were forced to put it into words, he's an incredibly powerful magician who uses his powers for remarkably inane ephemera. Montalban loves to put on shows and craft art pieces, and to this end, he has a helpful community of Assistants at his beck and call who bow slavishly to him, endowed with physical boons and dressed identically besides a few key trusted members of his inner circle. Controversially, he tends to create these art pieces out of things, very visible things, that are already owned by others.

Montalban talks too fast, too long, and uses an unwieldy vocabulary, but once you get to know his ideals, they swear it more than makes up for it. He is simply an aesthete, and while he responds well to praise, he also responds well to criticism, and is more than happy to enter into a serious critical conversation about his own or anyone else's pieces, so long as the criticism isn't moral winging like "oh my god that was my house." He disdains the thought of slaying anyone, though his Assistants may be another story, and he may be well capable of far worse anyway.

Power-wise, though they cannot be neatly described, generally boil down to the moving, shaping, reestablishing of matter and the physical realm. Key to this is that he can only do any of this when no being can see what he's modifying besides potentially himself. Besides this, he insists on telegraphing all his moves with lengthy theatrical presentations, at least coyly if not overtly betraying what he's about to do. No one is making him do that, that's just him. This is why he must rely on his Assistants to help with anything particularly big or noteworthy he wants to use for his own devices.

The "core" of Montalban's being is his mask, and the deceptively delicate mists of "potentia" that trail from it (which by the way grant chemical burns to the unprotected flesh) are what enable him to meddle with the physical. If these mists were to be separated from him and let to dissipate, which could be done as simply as punching him in the face really hard, the mask would fall to the ground inert until it could comfortably reform his shape.