He moves like a man who has learned to keep balance between force and finesse. His skin is warm bronze and bears faint white scars that snake like old lightning across his forearms and left cheek. Short dreadlocks are kept tight and practical, threaded with tiny brass beads carved with family sigils. He favors tailored hunting leathers and a fitted half-cloak that never flaps wildly even on windy ridgelines. A heavy rune-etched hammer rests across his back in a sling; at his neck hangs a brass locket with two faded portraits inside. Unexpectedly, his mannered, immaculate clothes are often dusted with the soft snow and stray pine needles of wherever the wolf sleeps, and the fur of the wolf is braided with a single red strip of ribbon matching the one inside the locket.