"I became a creature of instinct, wherein I learned civility can be a frail illusion."
A man of self made scarcity. He is known to few, though one might chance whispers in martial circles; a short-lived run of brazen success against Beast Tribes and Garleans, snuffed by some unspoken failure. Though he was known to have lived from his losses, most considered it fatal in every figurative sense. Ever since a fateful day, "The Wolf" had disappeared from the frontiers and frontlines, and lingered in the shadows to succumb to obscurity.
Mirthful and jubilant; ferocious and indomitable; ruminant and intense; isolated and morose. Barrett Banner is sturdy, broad, and apparently powerful. Without effort, he is an intimidating sight as a purported Highlander with fully realized natural gifts.
His fuzzy eyebrows and pale skin betray him as foreign to Gyr Abania. He stands above most of his kin by a considerable margin, only eclipsed by the most burly and tall of Eorzea's races. His voice is sonorous, gruff, and gravely. He is more prone to roars and growls than screams and screeches.
His rust tinted brown hair is well-kempt and often stylized. His piercing green eyes possess a quiet wistfulness that glimmers subtly to those who venture to study them. He is assumedly older, perhaps approaching mid-thirties, by his demeanor; diametrically, his spry athleticism and healthy body tells its own story.
His is a severe disposition, yet he can be brought to bouts of levity and genuine playfulness. His quiet intensity is carried in his countenance when alone or focused, yet he seems to come through with a smile and lightened mood as others approach. His self-deprecating sense of humor; his sunken, tired eyes; his long stares; finally, his perennial dissatisfaction outside his work, all betray a deeper sadness which lingers with him and plagues his thoughts.
Something is missing.
An affect beyond expression. He is ever pensive by his preoccupations. A man who can escape his mind only by perpetual toil and purpose.