Thalarian is a slender elf with silver hair tied back in a neat queue. He wears indigo robes trimmed with silver thread, and his eyes, the color of a clear night sky, are constantly darting around. He carries a heavy, iron-bound spellbook strapped to his hip and always has a smudge of ink on his right thumb.

I use polysyllabic words that convey the impression of great erudition, and I often forget that not everyone is as well read as I am. I am quiet in large crowds but can speak for hours about the weave and celestial alignments if prompted.

Thalarian spent his first century within the Great Library of Silverymoon, content to serve as a scribe and researcher. He was fascinated by the interplay of arcane energy and celestial movements, spending night after night observing the stars and translating ancient draconic manuscripts. His life changed when he discovered a series of encrypted notes hidden within the margin of a standard history text. The notes spoke of a lost observatory that held the key to channeling raw starlight into destructive force. Fearing that such knowledge might fall into the wrong hands, or worse, remain forgotten in the dust, Thalarian petitioned his superiors to lead an expedition. When they refused, citing the risks to the library's neutral status, he took his personal spellbook and left. He now travels the world seeking the remaining fragments of that ancient star-mage's journal, believing that the truth of the cosmos is more important than the safety of the library's walls. His transition from scholar to adventurer has been rocky. He finds the grit and dirt of travel distasteful, and the unpredictability of physical combat is far less logical than the mathematical equations of magic. However, he has found that the practical application of his evocation theories is quite satisfying, especially when he can shape the magical explosions to spare his companions.