Kheldrik is a tall, pale-skinned man whose body has been hardened more by wind, salt, and sleepless watch than by vanity or training-yard polish. His black hair is thick, shoulder-length, and usually bound at the nape with a strip of red-dyed seal leather. Red and black warpaint runs in two blunt strokes from his lower lip to his jaw, making his mouth seem wider when he speaks. He wears dark iron armor shaped in overlapping plates like a crouching wolf, each plate rubbed smooth at the edges by years of travel. The armor is severe and wolfish, but small blue glass beads hang from its collar, clicking softly as he moves, an unexpectedly delicate sound from such a heavily armed man. He walks with an economical forward lean, as if always moving into weather. Within a minute of meeting him, most people notice that he checks the leather cord around his left wrist whenever someone says the word home.