Nathanial is a tall, lean human male who seems to be little, if any out of his early twenties - no matter that events have aged him just a little (enough to make him 'mature' irregardless of his years) there is nonetheless a certain optimism and guilessness about his nature that makes it unlikely he's any older. He's fairly broad-chested, showing every sign of having grown up with the sort of healthy work and plentiful exercise that's part and parcel of being a Coalition Soldier, though the indpendant and cheerful spirit in his eyes quite plainly identifies what such an otherwise successful-looking young officer would be doing out in the middle of nowhere.

 Of course, you don't get promoted at all in this mans army without good reason, and a hint as to what that reason might be can be found in a closer inspection - his left eye has a slightly glassy, unnatural gleam to it and there are a number of small scars suggestive of reconstructive surgery that turn what was probably once a fairly handsome face into a merely average one, whilst when he walks there's ever such a slight favouring of one leg over the other, suggesting that at least one of them isn't original equipment, so to speak.

 In terms of dress however, he redeems much - his clothing is smart and invariably perfectly ordered, whether civilian or uniform (though since the former tends towards denims and leather jackets it's rather hard to use the word 'ordered' and mean it) with every and any decoration or rank-tab polished up precisely to specification. Of course, that's because when you've a sense of humour like his, not to mention a way with a pen, you don't want to leave any little hooks for your superior to reel you in and chew you out by. In uniform it's perhaps worth noting a fair selection of markings on his sleeve - the stripe and a half of a first lieutenant, common markings such as the skull and bolt of 'field experience' and the crossed rifles of 'marksman' - more unusually however he's also carrying the prestigious winged skull of airborne (too impatient to get to the ground) training and the 'didn't duck' award of a crossed crimson heart.