A surly curl to the lips, a shaved head, and suspicious eyes greet any who
examine the woodsman.  He lacks the layer of fat that shows prosperous good
health, but he is still deep in the shoulders and chest, and his legs look like they get him from here to there quickly, should a good reason come up.  From his rough speech and rougher manner, it is evident that he is not much for civilized company.

His bow is lovingly cared for.  The morningstar he carries is of orkish make.