A Dunlending of average height and wiry of build. Well into his thirties, his face is starting to show the first creases of age. Dark brown eyes lay deep-set on a weathered but nonetheless cheerful and welcoming face. Copper brown "finger-combed" hair carried loose and a full beard give him an air of wild unkemptness.

A long scar under his left eye was the result of careless inattention while handling Mirth, his hunting hawk, which came close to leaving him blind in one eye. If asked about it, he'll often shrug and say: "Don't treat hawks as pets. Hawks make piss-poor pets."

He is traditionally clad in a patchwork of furs and leathers that changes dramatically depending on the needs of the season, though he is rarely ever without his thick boar-skin gloves, covered in scrapes and scuffs made by clawed hawk feet. 

Slung on his back is a simple ash bow, and on his belt hangs a sword he got from a peddler on one of his visits to Galtrev.