Thalen moves with a surprising grace for a woodcutter, his lean 5'11" frame wrapped in layered, earth-toned leathers that are both worn and meticulously cared for. His skin carries the roughness of years spent swinging axes and bending to gather timber, but with an almost iridescent sheen under the sunlight—suggesting something more elemental beneath. His hair is shoulder-length and thick, moss-dark with strands of copper-red that flicker faintly when agitated. His stark ice-blue eyes gleam with intelligence and a restless energy. A faint white scar shaped like a curling flame snakes down his left forearm, the only mark visible beneath the sleeves. When he walks, his steps are light and deliberate, almost as if sensing the pulse of the forest beneath his feet. Paradoxically, his hands often tremble slightly when idle, betraying a nervous energy at odds with his calm exterior.