Gyr of the Verdeloth Grove
Once upon an early morn,
when the dewy webs were born
and the sun still slept forlorn,
a figure strode from the glade...

A Traveller Uhl, a primal guardian druid... a novice geomancer sent out as a missionary to teach how the flow of nature affects everyone and everything; how even the slightest action or inaction can have tremendous consequences, for good or ill.  He does not adhere to most societies and tends to act awkwardly around others, finding comfort in the world outside, instead.

He stands tall.  He stands broad.  His antlers curl and reach as the branches of a tree, a barky brown adorned with seashell charms and earthen beads, growing leaves and vines woven into the prongs' crevices.  A bush of mane, tawny and ochre bursts from around his face to fall onto his bare shoulders, covering all from neck to chest, braided with fire-cast baubles that faintly clackity-clack with each step.  His face... a distant gaze over pursed lips, nostrils flaring and whiskers splayed as he senses more the churning energies around him than the words spoken to him... all speak at once, always...

Typically Uhl, his garb is scant, only what was necessary; atypical Uhl, it is not ornate, not coordinated.  He wears what he can, what protects him.  The hide of some great beast, thick furs of spots-and-stripes combined, crafted bone for his buckles and intricate knots to fasten it all together.  He holds but a single staff, a mighty branch from a tree whose name was long since forgotten, yet still it grows its vines, leaves and twigs woven together; sometimes wrapped around his wrist... perhaps for security... but security for whom?