Tall and willowy with the lithe carriage of a dancer who has learned to fight in rhythm; his white Robe of the Archmagi has black and red embroidered sigils along the hems and a faint, ever-shimmering lattice of runes. The robe's fabric looks like spun silk in one light and like polished bone in another. He carries the Staff of the Magi, topped with a dull, storm-gray crystal that pulses faintly when he channels magic. A battered veteran's scar runs from temple to jaw, pale against his tanned skin. Unexpectedly, his left hand bears soil-stained calluses and the same stub of a wooden splint he wore as a conscript soldier, a contradiction to his immaculate robe. He moves with dancerly economy, pausing mid-gesture as if listening for a rhythm no one else can hear.