Matt of the Clan McCune? Here is a gentleman of such a rare and fine quality I despair to attempt his description. Possibly a Highlander Knight adrift on the river of time, possibly an agent sent to our world on a trickster mission that is secret even from him, his slight smile conceals a smorgasbord of talents, and potent powers.
A brawny and brash fellow when appropriate, give me this man to guard my back in a pub brawl!
Yet, his refined and piercing mind is a garden of subtle wisdoms and a river of bottomless perceptions.
He can speak plain truth, or spin some tall-assed jive AND it is whispered in perfumed boudoirs across the continents that the talents of his silver tongue extend beyond his gifts of speech.
I have seen him in his whimsey arrayed in splendid festival finery like as a lord going to be wed, yet the man, like his beer, is of the People and the Land, solid as a tree root, dependable as an old boot.
He is neither a stranger to, nor much put off by either hard work or by the Devil. Avast there, all evil bastards, fascists and other vermin! Stand back when he enters your lairs, flee while you can.
When he holds drink, it is assured he means to share it generously with those around him and he is gifted in the art of listening.
I've as yet said nothing here of his magery with wood and how it shapes itself at his command, but forsooth any attempt to capture this fellow in the net of words will assuredly fall short.
A brother to all creatures and a light in a dark time.