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Eugene found himself moving from town to town in the Oathlands, given his father's trade as a wandering blacksmith. Home was never really home for long as demand kept the Caylerth family on the road for weeks at a time. When he was of fine age, it was Eugene's turn to help where his brothers had; one having been enlisted in the provincial militia and another to a pox. Training abroad found Eugene taking up the family trade while his father ensured that old military contacts would be able to train his son in the ways of war.

The man was by no means a mountain but perhaps he could pass as a boulder perched atop of it. Burly was a good word for him; built of strong stock and tall enough to support the frame that cut him into quite an athletic specimen, if not a bit freakish. He could have easily been misconstrued for a mountain man. A matted collection of brown hair ran down to about his shoulders, greased back to get out of his way and sported with a pair of thick mutton chops. Upon his upper lip sat a rather large and prominent mustache, greased as his hair with a fine oil the same as his hair. Between the mess of hair, his pale grey eyes cut across to add a layer of trepidation when approaching the man yet all could be disarmed just by him opening his mouth.

Eugene is not one to keep himself when he has something to voice or be made known. His mouth has gotten him into trouble previous times over, but he is managing to know that there is a time and place for such things. His first inclination is to apply brute force to a problem that someone else would normally think outside the box for.