Upon first sight he is no more remarkable than any other mercenary wandering the world: a coat of mail, typical of his sort, hangs over a stout frame. There is a leafless tree embossed upon the breast of his leather jerkin, but any gilding has long since faded. The more worldly sort could vaguely guess it's southern origin— aside from the curious addition of seven runes, hand-stitched into the leather, arching in place of the stars.