Broad-shouldered and compact, Eydur moves with the steady precision of someone who measures twice and strikes once. His skin is dusted with soot that clings to the fine creases around his eyes, and his hands are callused, the pads of his fingers slightly flattened from years of handling leather and rope. He wears his beard braided into three slim ropes looped back beneath a leather chin strap to keep it from catching in machinery. Unexpectedly, he keeps a small carved wooden bird tucked behind his ear that he whistles to when nervous. His shoulders are often streaked with bright, deliberate patches of enamel paint he uses to mark commissioned gear, an odd flash of color against the dull iron and brown leather.