A tall and lean man, with a ragged look to him. His shoulder long hair is matt black, falling messily down, often tied in a ponytail, with but few strands falling over his face. Under the high brow, two sharp gray eyes are ever watchful, their color setting him apart from men of Bree or Dunland.

His clothes bear all signs of wear, visibly patched time and time again, once deep browns and greens paled with years. Over his shoulders falls a dark green cape, which is dirty and had paled with years of use. On his chest is a brooch in likeness of a silver star, in which is embedded a small, faintly glowing blue crystal. Soft leather boots he wears are a good fit for him, worn and covered in dirt from the road as they are. He bears a sword at his left side, a dagger strapped to his thigh and a well cared for yew longbow on his back, along with the quiver usually filled with goose feathered arrows.

An old scar goes across his face, from the left brow and across the bridge of his nose, faded with years. Aside from that, nothing else would draw eyes to him, his posture in public oft slightly slouched and his gait seemingly tired. A ragged looking, unassuming man, one might think.