Thistle stands at a mere three feet tall, possessing the typical plump belly of a well-fed halfling, yet his limbs are surprisingly corded with lean muscle. His skin is the color of polished teak, etched with fine lines from years of squinting at ledger books and road maps. He moves with a rhythmic, bouncing gait that suggests he is constantly walking to a song only he can hear. Contrasting his friendly face, his left eye is a milky, cataract-scarred white, while the right is a piercing, intelligent amber. He maintains a meticulously groomed handle-bar mustache that smells faintly of cinnamon and old parchment.