Donovan was an inch or three over an even six feet, his practical armor and loose clothes still able to suggest the contours of a muscled, athletic build. His sinewy forearms are marked with the evidence of a hundred engagements, and not all nicks from swords alone. His hands are well-worn and hard used, knuckles scraped and palms calloused from the sword hilt.
His age was indeterminate, not a young man anymore but age not having yet set in. A few distinguished strands of silver touched his beard, his hair, even his brows, but those telltale signs of aging don't seem to slow him or make his smiles any less easy. An odder fact of note are his eyes, grey and subtly feline slits that adjust to light and dark seemingly at will. He had a good humour, quick to wit and jibe and flattery if it suited, and quicker yet to his crooked smile. The skin at the corners of his sober grey eyes showed the hints of laugh lines, though a disciplined and stern demeanor was never far to hand. His voice is a little rough, maybe partially owed to a jagged claw scar angled down his lower neck. He speaks with a slight accent, something between modern world Scandinavian and Scottish.

At his back hung a scabbard holding a heavy and long blade, possibly a hand-and-half sword. The hilt looked worn, but very well cared for. He wore a leather belt at a slant, a few assorted pockets in it containing whatever he might need close to hand. If any were to see his horse, his saddlebags would also be burdened with a slim and long chest, bound in steel. His last token of note was a medallion that tended to hide below his armor, a flat silver medallion depicting a bear's head.

OOC: The portrait is pretty spot on for appearance, look at it!

Red: Anything with cocks in erp. Nonsense. Griefing, godmodding. Bad typing, bad language skills, ooc bullshit.
Yellow: PvP
Green: Intelligent players and characters, women, deep relationships, deeper backgrounds.