Barundin moves with the slow, purposeful tread of a mountain that remembers every fault line. His beard is a tightly plaited cascade of ash-brown hair, threaded with a single copper wire he refuses to remove; each braid ends with a tiny iron rune bead. His face is broad and weathered like hammered steel, with a pale scar that runs from his left temple to the corner of his mouth — a jagged white streak he keeps clean and hints at a youthful mistake. He favors a sleeved leather jerkin covered in hammered bronze plates polished to a dull glow; when he walks the plates whisper together like distant anvils. Unexpectedly, he wears a child's faded blue scarf tied beneath his beard that flutters when he moves — a soft, almost effeminate detail at odds with his warrior's silhouette. His movements are economical but quick to coil and explode during combat; in repose he tends to rock slightly from foot to foot as if keeping time with a song only he hears.