Cortland Broadcloak

Dark eyes peer from under a wide hat painted with the bright colors of Shelyn. Untidy blonde hair peeks from the sides, and when his head rises you see two clear dueling scars across both cheeks. They are deep and recently healed, still pink with fresh skin. He awkwardly fumbles a bit to push back the hat with a hand missing the two forefingers. He walks a bit off, like he is used to having his weapon balanced on his other hip, and his bright crimson, green and blue armor, seemingly made from some form of bug chitin, does not seem to make his sallow look any better. Not a man to cross, and not a man living a life he thouroughly enjoys.