Broad and tall in ways no Man ought to be, as if some magic of the wilds has taken hold of him and enlarged him in length and girth in comparison to the world around him. His stature is unsurprisingly a phenomenon in and of itself, awe inspiring and rightfully frightening to most in this world by sheer bearing alone. His judgmental eyes are a bright hazel with amber lights that emit suspicion, his brow creased with lines that suggest he's easily beset with wroth.  From his face dangles a thick healthy brown beard unceremoniously and undecorated over the large wool tunic that covers most of his body. His trousers are no less baggy and his footwear is loose without any fastenings, all of which are plain and stained with the remnants of his labors and travels. 

Out of all this there is one exception to his wardrobe that seems to stick out. Over his shoulders lies a cloak of dirty black fur, something that only the knowledgeable on such matters could define as having belonged to a warg. From the woven linen belt that keeps his trousers up, there dangle several thick brown tails too, still with crusted blood caught in the rough hairs...

This seems to be a man that shuns no violence and has claimed lives of the beasts that haunt these mountain valleys you've found him in! 

Only then one notices the heavy branch in his hand , half a man's length marked with scratches of large claws, tufts of fur, broken fangs jutting from it and spots where the bark has splintered under an impact steered with tremendous force! 

He will block whichever way he thinks your path leads to, he puffs his mighty chest while his nostrils widen with a deep intake of breath. Then his lips part and his voice booms out... 

                                                     "Toll!"