Nathaniel Miller is a rather significantly sized bear of a man.  He’s a head taller than most which makes him easy to pick out in a crowd, and darn near twice as wide too.

Though he perpetually carries a knife like any such frontiersmen, just about as ubiquitous is the saber style sword worn on his left side.  At a glance to many it could pass for a standard Union issue 1860 or 1840 Cavalry Saber.  A trained eye however would notice it is both slightly shorter and more curved with the dimensions of the leather and hide sheathe (as opposed to the standard issue iron) indicating a wider blade as well.  A bit more obvious is the knuckle-bow which, rather than being a simple curve, is tighter to the grip and shaped into a series of crescents akin to the profile of the fingers on a closed fist.

His appearance is permanently rough and tumble to the point some folks might joke he crosses the street to give any barber as wide a berth as possible as religiously as a padre saying his prayers before bed.  As such his wardrobe seems to consist of simple homespun garments in either rough and durable textiles, or tanned skins and hides.  Nathaniel also seems to have a perpetual faint odor of smoke about him, as if he’s always lingered about a camp fire the night before.

Despite his appearance Nathaniel is not mirthless, with those who know him well able to attest that he can be as gregarious to the same degree that a stranger might expect him to be surly and grim.