Anders seems a friendly enough youth with a ready good natured smile, though the twinkle in his eye shines full sparkle at the prospect of reckless chaos and mayhem. He's a big strapping lad, full six foot and with some solid muscle on his bones. But there's a spring in his step, a certain grace and lightness of foot that is unusual in large men,

He wears simple, practical clothes from a passed-by forgotten age; clothes that peasants, woodsmen and sailors have worn for millennia though now even they dress more fashionably than him. He wears a simple dyed wool tunic or smock over baggy wool breeches; a worn sleeveless leather jerkin and simple leather shoes, and a greasy matted and felted cloak of dark grey that stinks of lanolin and sheep. A carved bone amulet in the shape of a hammer hangs around his neck.

A cutlass swings at his hip, a short axe hangs at his other, next to a practical belt knife. Yet another axe is slung lengthways behind his back.