A man with all the traits of a mountain, that of alpine height, tremendous bulk, and impassable bearing; his stride is sure and intent, yielding for no obstacle, for no challenger.

Kissed both by sun and steel, his skin is flushed tan that is marred by faded white streaks where old wounds have left their mark. His dusky hair grows long and wild, tamed and slashed into a fierce mane tied in place by a band of braided leathers. Thick, unwieldy hair sprouts readily across the vast expanse of his powerful jaw, groomed to barest submission into as neat a shape as he could hope. A foreign mark is oftentimes painted on his face, refreshed frequently with a vibrant blue paint. 

He travels light, well accustomed to the weight of his pack and the heft of his weapons, which are ever readily at hand. A round oaken shield is strung to his belt, the long haft of a tenderly preserved ax protrudes at convenient reach from his back, his spear carried by hand as he journeys. Rarely found wanting for sustenance or shelter on the path, he carries among his meagre belongings all the tools a wanderer may need. And with him the knowledge of how to make do without. 

His strong, youthfully striking features gives way to vast expression, from exuding great mirth to projecting savage fury, his bearing is as open of his intent at any given time as are his words; holding but a few things close to his heart, the breadth of his being is laid bare for all to witness and judge, confident in weathering any and all doubts or challenges hurled his way. 

Griporm strides ever forwards towards his destination, whatever it may be.