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Krythix is shrouded in a myriad of well worn leathers and skins. The only item of cloth he wears being a hooded tunic, dyed the shade of lichen soft green. Obvious care and skill crafts the strong leather armor covering him. Intricate designs and images of hand-tooled animals wind their way up the front, some in various states of completion. Light suede encases his legs, oil marks darken the front of each thigh from the rubbing and resting of his hands.
He wraps a sable cloak of Yeti fur around himself. It is a hide taken in winter, the fur pure white. From his belt hangs a long hunting knife, sheathed, alongside an ancient-looking leather pouch. Oftentimes, a rabbit or other small game can be seen hanging from the opposite side. Mud encrusted boots are worn laced up to right below his knees. A battle hammer, faintly glowing, is secured across his back. There is a newness to it, the grip not yet worn.
His face still holds a ghosting of the softness of youth. The scruff of a first beard growing along his jawline roughens the otherwise angelicness of his features. Likewise, his deep-set eyes of hazel, the golden centers spreading out into a pale moss green, hold the softness of compassion. Dark unkempt hair is pulled back, tied at the nape of his neck with a wide band of leather.
Long graceful fingers are marred by short jagged nails, calluses, and embedded dirt. Working hands. A strong band of metal is wrapped around each forearm.
He smells of the forest, the rich musty scent of soil and skin.
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