Flynn Goodall is a large man and in his prime was an imposing figure both on and off the battlefield.

Though he maintains obvious physical strength in his massive shoulders and thick arms, a layer of fat over his belly has nonetheless intruded and made itself welcome.  His hairline has receded and he has taken to shaving his scalp rather than worry about what's left of it.  A large nose and hammy lips round out his face.

Still, his booming voice and easy use of strength never let one forget that he is a leader of men and nobody to be trifled with.  He speaks casually but with an undeniable air of confidence.

Like many mercenaries, his clothes and accessories blend utility and showiness.  Over maille and boiled leather he wears thick black belts to secure his weapons and other equipment, each of which is fixed with a large golden seal showing two dragons locked in mortal combat.  Matching bands of brass circle his wrists.  Besides his thumbs, not a finger on his hand is without at least one ring and none of these is without pits, scratches and dents to match the lines and scratches on his massive hands.

A weathered wooden shield covers his back, marked by countless dents and gouges in addition to the crude golden skull painted at its center.  A large knife with golden hilt protrudes from one boot and several light axes droop and swing from his belt.

His sword, however, is easily the most valuable possession on his person.  The pommel and guard are brass, each tipped with a small cast skull.  When he stands idle, one hand always finds its way to his hilt to run thick fingers across empty eye sockets.