Brurik towers at a formidable 6'5", his broad, chiseled frame a testament to relentless physical conditioning, each muscle defined like sculpted stone beneath taut, weathered skin. His head is starkly bald, the smooth, sun-burnished scalp gleaming faintly, accentuating the hard planes of his face - high cheekbones, a broad forehead, and a nose slightly crooked from past brawls. A short, coarse blonde beard clings to his angular jaw, its pale strands flecked with hints of silver, lending him a rugged, almost Nordic fierceness. His eyes, a striking ice-blue, burn with a quiet, predatory intensity, their gaze sharp enough to unravel secrets or freeze a foe in place, flickering with a mix of cold calculation and unyielding will. Faint scars crisscross his skin - a jagged line above one brow, another nicking his chin?each a silent chronicle of battles fought and won. His massive hands, calloused and scarred, hint at both brute strength and surprising precision. Brurik moves with a deliberate, panther-like grace, his every step radiating coiled power, as if he's perpetually braced for violence or ready to vanish into the shadows.

Appearances are one thing, however, and although Brurik rarely approaches others unless out of necessity, those that do speak to him would find a deep and almost soft voice, the imposing figure speaking with accented courtesy and wisdom.