A long, flowing beard streaked with gray and white that brushes the floor in places, braided with tiny copper wire and a single cracked moonstone bead. Deep wrinkles carve his face like the rings of an old tree carved with runes. His eyes emit a faint pearly glow when he thinks, as if words form there before he speaks. His layered robes are time-worn and faded indigo stitched with arcane sigils that show different patterns under candlelight. The hem of the outer robe is singed in tiny, regular marks, as if tested against sparks and wards over decades. He moves with a slow, deliberate gait, posture slightly hunched, supported by a carved wooden staff topped with a milky crystal that pulses softly. Unexpected element: when he laughs his voice becomes youthful and trembles with a hint of a childlike lilt for a heartbeat, contradicting his otherwise measured presence.