Brundir stands stout, his bark-like skin grooved and cracked like ancient oak, shifting subtly with the light as if alive. His hair is an unruly tangle of moss and tiny flowering fungi that sporadically bloom small colorful mushrooms, giving the impression a tiny forest lives atop his head. His movements are deliberate and heavy-footed but slow and thoughtful, carrying the weight of centuries. Despite his rugged, naturalistic form, his eyes glint with the subtle iridescence of polished amber, seeming unsettlingly alive and wise. Contradiction comes in his heavily calloused hands, both those of a blacksmith hardened by metal and those almost tenderly brushing the delicate fungi growing from his hair. Wearing a patchwork of leather and bark-hide armor interlaced with woven leaves and silver filigree, he leaves an impression of a living bridge between stone and forest.