September's head is a crude, oblong box plated in bright, shimmering electrum that shines with a celestial radiance. The massive eatherbreaker's haft is as tall as a man, carved with chitinous spirals and with a heavy spike at the end; this is likewise plated with glowing electrum which has in only a few places flaked away to expose the pitted and blood-stained black iron beneath. Depending on the time of day (and September's magical reserves), more and more of the electrum burns away, but it is always freshly-applied the next morning.

September's mental voice is bright, warm, sincere, and loudly gung-ho, like a paladin from a successful play. On the rare occasions the bearer speaks, its diction is completely neutral, with no inflection, each word bitten off one at a time as though it is both the beginning and end of a sentence (which is normal, given that September needs to dictate words to it one at a time).

The weapon is carried by a thick-bodied humanoid figure with dull bronze skin, no hair, and unseeing pure-white eyes.  Its gnarled wooden body is covered in faint, mossy traceries.  Its sandals are laced tightly, thongs spiraling up its calves almost to its knees. It walks steadily, one foot at a time, hammer leaning over one shoulder, with its other hand rhythmically tapping its trunk-like leg. It stares straight ahead at almost all times unless on watch, which can be disconcerting if it's not facing towards someone when September talks to them.