Illidan Farstrider cuts a striking, haunted figure, tall and lean with the trained, ruthless grace of a predator that has learned restraint the hard way. His skin bears a faint twilight cast, neither fully mortal nor fully infernal, as if moonlight and ash were both caught beneath it. Black hair falls to his shoulders in uneven, wind-torn layers, usually tied back with a strip of dull silver leather, while one side of his face is traced by thin ember-like scars that glow when anger or magic stirs. His left horn is cracked and regrown at an angle, polished smooth by years of touch, while the right is missing entirely. He wears heavy, travel-worn dark leathers under a half-cloak lined in raven feathers, but the cloak's inside is embroidered with delicate gold thread, an unexpectedly royal touch that looks out of place on such a scarred hunter. He moves with a quiet, measured limp that vanishes in combat, leaving only a sudden, uncanny speed and a smell of ozone and cold iron.