Tall and weathered. Skin creased like old leather where sunlight and steel have met. Wears a faded dark-green traveler's cloak over patched splint armor; the cloak's inner lining stitched with a pattern of tiny crossed swords representing his company. His left forearm bears a neat spiral of white scars that glow faintly under moonlight, a remnant of a smithing accident he will not discuss. He favors a heavy, well-balanced longsword whose pommel is inlaid with a thin strip of blue glass. Moves with the economical grace of someone who has fought while carrying tools and baggage. Contradiction: despite a stern gaze he often hums a soft lullaby when preparing camp, the tune incongruous with his martial bearing.