((SUBJECT TO OCCASSIONAL EDITING))

Race: Mingled blood of Dúnedain and Middle Men

Age: 52, appears to be in 30's.

Stature/build: He stands 6'0'' tall with broad shoulders and chest but otherwise lithe and sinewy from a life of travel, mostly in haste, more times than not over great distances. Speed is vital for his lifestyle, but those who doubt his strength are always surprised. His hands are rough, much like the raw wood that he shapes into fine bows, spears, and carvings; with a grip strong as a vice.  

Face/bearing: Deep lines crease the tight, wind-burnt skin across his face. Particularly his prominent brow, the sides of his somewhat long nose and at the outer corners of his eyes. His cheek bones are high, the cheeks themselves shallow. He keeps a close-trimmed beard, when he feels the urge to groom himself; coarse, black, and flecked with grey. Thick stubble covers his bull-like neck within days of being out in the field. 

Neither is he wasteful of words or time, rather listens intently and replies in a quiet voice, warm and calm in tone. Few have heard him raise his voice and those who have were all the more fearful in his scorn or the more inspired in his rallying cry. Patience comes from years of night watches and overwatching enemy movements. He suffers from bad dreams, which helps in persuading himself to stay awake in the long, still hours of a night's watch, reflected by a brooding nature. Slow to trust others or to call them "friend" for he has lost too many. Those who earn his friendship are repaid with a kind, loyal, light-humored friend in turn.    

Hair/eyes: Black, unkempt and oily hair with grey strands falls to his shoulders. Few see anything besides his ever present black hood.

In sunlight his eyes appear blue, but in the shade look green. A golden hue streaks from his pupils, dark green fringes the iris and a light blue intermingles within.

Mount: Argo is a steed to match its rider. With a black coat, mane, and tail he can hardly be seen at night, silently and swiftly his hooves glide over the earth. Draugrandir does not over-burden his beloved beast and truest ally, always packing lightly the saddle bags behind his black leather saddle. Mostly Draugrandir leads Argo while he treds on foot, but will ride when utmost haste is needed. No bit or spurs are needed for him to comply with his master's commands, instead a light pull of the reins to halt or soft squeeze of his sides to slow, a slight tap from his heels to quicken pace.

Apparel: In order to meld with the environment, his garb varies upon region and circumstance. The little that he carries can fit within his horse's saddle bags.

Cloaks: Within the bags he keeps one cloak of each color: black, grey, green, and red. As time passes and his wisdom grows, he favors the black for concealment at night. Why waste energy toiling in the sun? The grey he keeps in honor of the time he spent among the Grey Company, or if he should happen to fight alongside them again. The green was the first cloak given to him, made by his mother. He wore it for many years in his youth whilst serving in the Shire and Bree land Border Companies . The red is only worn when among The Red Company.   

Armor: Weather beaten, sun faded, green and brown tunics and pants given to him as uniforms for service among the Border Rangers are stowed in his bags. In his home he keeps a red linen and scale hauberk of The Red Company and a vest of steel rings with a black leather jerkin, steel studded, pinned with the silver star device of the Grey Company. There also he keeps a steel helm which was made in Rivendell before the setting out of the Grey Company. What he wears from day to day is a leather, lamellar vest and tunic of an earthy brown color. His feet are shod by the same boots of supple leather that he's worn for years, though they have been repaired often. Steel vambraces protect his forearms. On his back is strapped a simple, brown leather quiver. 

Weapons: Morcú, or "Black Bow" as Draugrandir names it, he shaped once he had become skilled enough to make such a weapon that could serve him properly. With no fancy adornments or useless runes, it appears as a plain, smoothly lacquered, black longbow made from oak. Standing Morcú at his side while strung, it reaches slightly above Draugrandir's hip. The draw weight is exceedingly high, making impact strong enough to pierce thick armor or hide. He fletches his own arrows, choosing the proper head for his mark, as any skilled bowman does. 

Besides Morcú, he carries a simple, cross hilted, steel longsword sheathed on his left side and a few daggers of varying sizes strapped to his right hip, the side of his boot, or upon his vambrace. Rarely will his mark get close enough for melee, but he knows all too well that when they do he must be prepared to dispatch them quickly. Many foes have been taken at unawares to the throat by his dagger.