Short and solid as a carved keg of granite. His braided beard is threaded with hammered copper rings engraved with prayers. He favors a sleeveless leather surcoat over chain, revealing forearms scarred in a lattice of burn marks and a faded tattoo of his clan's rune. His skin bears the fine dust of stone and crushed herbs around his nails. One eyebrow arches permanently as if waiting for an oath to be kept. When he moves he does so with the slow, deliberate certainty of a mason at his bench, but when someone is hurt he moves with sudden, precise speed. Unexpectedly, he hums mournful hymns in a language no one in the valley speaks, and he keeps a small clay pipe tucked behind his ear that he never smokes.